Alone in the Dark
by oddmachine16
Summary: The war with Ashera is over and life has gone back to normal.  But has it?  A new threat looms as mysterious people begin to appear across Tellius.  Will the heroes remain righteous, or will they succumb to the dark? Various pairings.
1. Goodbyes

**Author's Note: Oh No! The dreaded authors note! Eeeep! So now, to begin I shall tell you my entire life story just for the heck of it. When I was eight years old…haha just playing.**

**But on a more serious note. This note serves as no more than a warning one could say. If you don't care what you're reading than go ahead and skip the rest. But if you like a certain type of writing I guess? Than go ahead and keep on reading.**

**First off this is a Post RD fic, so the plot will mostly be my own, with the canon endings of the characters kept in mind. I'll try and follow to the best of my ability. Which brings me to another point. I will be changing some things that happened in Radiant Dawn, most of them trivial, but at least one will change the whole back story of a character. Also, there will be some yaoi in here. I don't know if I will take to the physical stage but there will at least be yaoi thoughts? I guess you could call them that. But it will be a small part of the story so please read the rest and if you don't like yaoi then skip over that part. And there's a large number of OC's in this fic, most with only supporting or enemy roles but…I'm rambling. Sorry. There's quite a few POV's and plot arcs in here but I don't think that will be a problem. Finally I'm gonna tell you the main pairings just so you're warned. Elincia/Ike/Soren - Sothe/Micaiah/Pelleas - Jill/Haar/OC - Aimee/OC **

**And if you're still reading this behemoth than I congratulate you and say thank you. So now onwards to the story. Lastly please review, even if just a flame, but most importantly please tell me if I should keep writing this. Thanks and enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Fire Emblem or Intelligent Systems.**

* * *

><p><em>Goodbyes<em>

The sun broke through the gaping hole in the rough, canvas tent and a small groan escaped the woman's mouth. She sat up, her exotic face groggy, and her black, silky hair mussed up and sticking up all over the place. Standing up, and tripping over the hem of her dress, the woman walked out of the tent, shading her eyes from the glare of the bright morning sun. And the scene before her caused her to scream.

"Ilyaaaaana! Miiiiia! Muuuustoooon!" Aimee called out in a completely grating and obnoxious voice. "Wheeeeree arrrre yooooou?"

She snorted and stomped her foot. No one was answering her once again. It was getting annoying. Nobody ever talked to her, everybody ignored her. She scowled. They couldn't just leave her alone in the middle of the Daein countryside could they? And if they had, she would hunt them down and make their lives miserable! But of course she didn't realize that with her their lives were always miserable. Aimee thought that she was the perfect being, composed of beauty, intellect, and cunning.

The only things around her were her shoddy tent and a wide plain of nothing. A couple of trees stood to right, gently swaying, and a few songbirds flew above her head, but other than that, she saw nobody. She sat down with sigh, and allowed one single tear to fall down her face. Once again she had been abandoned, like she had been throughout her whole life. First by her parents, then by the sister of the orphanage that burnt down, then by the ugly shopkeeper that she was apprenticed to. And now by her supposed friends. Another tear fell down her face, which eventually turned into a raging torrent wiping off the makeup that she had put on so carefully the other day.

"Aimee?" a quiet, tentative voice said. "Is that you?"

Aimee turned around. "Oh! Ilyana! You guys didn't leave me!" Aimee jumped up hardly able to contain her joy. "I'm so sorry, I slept late, I'll get my stuff packed right away, it'll only take a few minutes."

The words spilled out into such a fast rush that Ilyana couldn't have understood a word that Aimee had said. Ilyana swayed a bit and began to lose her balance, but Zihark suddenly appeared and caught her.

"Aimee. We need to talk." Ilyana said in her most authoritative voice, regaining her composure, although she still looked a little woozy. They hadn't ate breakfast yet.

Aimee spun, completely caught off guard. "About what?" she asked, a puzzled expression on her face.

Ilyana opened her mouth to say something, and then shut it, looking over at Zihark. He grimaced, and then whispered something in her ear. Ilyana nodded enthusiastically, and Aimee narrowed her eyes, suspicious.

"Muston has left. He went to work in a run-down village that was almost destroyed by the Begnion Occupation forces." Zihark said slowly, not wanting Aimee to overreact and yell or scream. It didn't work.

"Whaaat? Why? The fool! How could he leave me!" Aimee shouted, exasperated. She seemed to have forgotten that a minute ago she thought that she was alone.

"I…uh…I don't know why." Zihark said, stumbling over his words. Aimee noticed that he always seemed to get unnerved around her. She attributed it to her goddess-like beauty, forgetting that she had streaks down her face from her running makeup and that her hair was sticking up all over the place.

Ilyana put her arm around Zihark's waist, and he reciprocated the gesture. "Aimee, we are leaving too." Ilyana spoke as gently as possible, but she winced when she saw Aimee's look of surprise, and anger. "Mia, Zihark and I are going to make a living for ourselves as mercenaries. Daein is overrun by bandits and brigands, so we thought that we could help out our home country." Although few knew it, Mia and Ilyana were born in Daein, and now that an honorable monarch ruled, the three of them felt that they should help rebuild their country.

"You can come with us if you want." Zihark quickly said, trying to remedy the situation. "I don't know how you could help exactly but…"

Aimee curled up her nose. "The battlefield is no place for me. I don't stoop down to such barbaric methods." She knew that her words hurt but they deserved it. They were leaving her to fend for herself! Her! Fragile, delicate, beautiful Aimee! She was bound to be kidnapped, or attacked, or goddess knew what else. And then to suggest that she fight along with them! It was deplorable.

Zihark scowled, and stomped off, muttering something. All Aimee heard was pompous and bitch. Her mouth dropped. She was prepared to chase after him and knock some sense into the fool when Ilyana stopped her.

"That was unfair." Ilyana said angrily, but Aimee could see that her big, lavender eyes were beginning to water. She winced as a wave of shame rushed through her. Magic was probably the only thing Ilyana could do well, and Aimee knew she took a lot of pride in that. And she also knew that Ilyana hated that the only thing it was good for was hurting others.

Aimee hung her head and muttered "Haven't I provided you with food and a home for years? Why are you picking them over me?" She didn't want Ilyana to hear her words but they had just spilled out. She felt whiny and wimpy all of a sudden.

"Look at me." Ilyana commanded, and Aimee obeyed. "It's because I think I love him. And I think he loves me too. And I don't want to lose him."

"But how do you know?"

"I…" Ilyana paused, obviously unsure of the answer. Then she smiled, "Because around him, I'm a different girl. I'm stronger, tougher, more sure of myself. And he's sated my appetite."

They stared at each other for a moment, and then both started giggling, which turned into outright laughter. Once they finally stopped Aimee's stomach hurt and her face was a bright red. Ilyana, still grinning, said "Do you want to come?"

Aimee immediately became serious. "I'm a big girl Ily. I can take care of myself. I'll start a shop somewhere or another. Go traipse around the world with your man. At least you guys won't waste all your money on meals anymore." Aimee winked.

"Very funny. But are you sure?" Ilyana looked worried. A part of her didn't want to say goodbye to the woman she'd been with for the past five years of her life.

"I'm positive. Now go! Do you even know where Mia is?"

Ilyana went pale and started to run over to where Zihark was. If you could call what she was doing running. She stopped and waved, and then she and Zihark moved off into the sunlight.

Aimee turned away. She was going to start crying again and it was the last thing she wanted. It was scary, being alone, with her whole life ahead of her and no plan whatsoever. A few months ago she would've balked and would've gone in search of wherever Muston was, asking him to let her stay with him. But like Ilyana she was a different girl. She wasn't turned to stone during Ashera's judgment, unlike Jorge, Daniel, and Muston. Yune had shielded only the strong from Ashera, and when she learned this, it had given her hope. She thought that maybe she could turn her life around. And now she had that chance.

Turning towards her departing friend again, Aimee moved to collapse her tent and decide where she was going to go next. Most of all she wanted to go find her old orphanage, the one that held some many good memories. She ran a hand through her hair, and started on the road to her new life.

* * *

><p>She stood alone atop a gentle rise. The tears would not stop running down her face, despite how hard she tried to choke them down. The warm wind caressed her, trying to soothe her pain, but it did nothing. Because the wind could not pick you up into its arms and hold you tight. The wind could not put feather-light kisses on your cheek when you were sad. The wind could not love you. Only he could do that.<p>

And he was gone.

Elincia watched as the ship bearing the hero of Tellius, and the hero of her heart, sailed away. He had said that he wanted to explore, to find new lands. But she knew he had only wanted to run. To run as he always had.

Another sob shook her body, and she had trouble keeping herself from falling to her knees and putting her face in her hands. The Greil Mercenaries stood on the docks waving goodbye to their commander. She could see Titania holding Mist tight, and the three brothers all discreetly holding hands. And naturally Soren stood off by himself. She missed the mercenaries. She missed the tight bond they all shared. And more than anything she wanted to be a part of it, part of the family that she never had.

But Elincia had told no one that she was coming to say her own private farewell. She knew that everyone else thought of her as weak, as no more than a fragile flower that would bend and break at the slightest breeze. And she didn't want people to see her like this. The shame would've been too much.

But worse than any of that was the fact that she knew the reason why Ike was leaving. And that reason was her.

After Crimea was restored, they had been in a young, innocent relationship. She remembered it being filled with long nights looking up at the stars in the palace garden, the days filled with long walks through these same gardens hand in hand. They hid it from most everyone, but Elincia's duty as queen strained their intimacy, with her being gone almost constantly. And even though she knew he hated being part of the nobility, she still asked him to go public about them. And he had run then. Reneging his lordship, and leaving her for his familiar, simple mercenary world.

And he was running now too.

Once Crimea had joined in the war alongside the Laguz Alliance, she and Ike had picked up where they left off. It was awkward at first but eventually they grew closer than they ever had. And after Ashera had made her judgment on the world, their love for one another blossomed. Yet when she suggested spending the rest of their life together, ignoring all the customs of royal marriage and making it through with just their love, he had once again left her.

She had suggested marriage less than a week ago. And he had given it no thought, just walked out of the room, saying that he wanted to "explore." She shook with another sob. Ike simply didn't want her, didn't want the commitment. Maybe he didn't even love her. She broke down again, and turned away from the departing ship.

Her eyes were closed, so when somebody put their hands on her shoulders, she drew her sword and whirled around into a defensive fighting stance. And looked straight at Lucia, a bemused expression on the blue haired woman's face. Elincia tried to smile, but it came out as a painful grimace instead, and she cried. Again.

Lucia rushed forward and drew her into a hug, stroking her hair with one hand and holding her tight with the other. Elincia melted into her arms, glad that someone had bothered to come find her, glad that there was someone here to comfort her. Shaking herself, and trying to compose herself, she pulled out of her milk sister's loving embrace, and found herself falling into her milk brother's even tighter hug.

"Geoffrey! Geoffrey!" she exclaimed, attempting to escape his strong, armor-clad arms, "I'm fine now!" He let her go, but looked at her with a skeptical look etched on his features.

"You weren't fine a moment ago." he said, taking a step forward. "I saw you up here crying your life away." He pulled her into another hug, and she let him this time, resting her head on his chest. She knew that she shouldn't deny her friend's love just to look strong. Enough of her love was leaving on that accursed ship.

"You don't need him Elincia." Lucia stated, a small frown on her face. "He was never good for you anyways, always leading you on and then leaving you standing alone in the dust. He may have saved our continent, but he's still a jerk." She scowled as she said the last part, and Elincia knew she was thinking of ways to get vengeance for her queen.

"He's not a bad person." Another sniffle escaped her, and she began the process of wiping her tears off her face. "Ike just doesn't know how to…" She was at loss for words. Lucia was right, Ike was no good for her. She needed a man who could stand by her, protect her no matter what. Geoffrey was that kind of guy, but he was essentially her brother, and the thought of a romantic relationship was… She shook the idea out of her head. That for sure was NOT going to happen.

"Come on. Let's go." Geoffrey said. "If we leave now we can make it to Melior by nightfall." Without waiting for answer, he mounted his horse, and pulled Lucia onto his horse, seating her right behind him. Elincia swung up on to Atlas, her aging pegasus, and nudged him forward. He nickered, glad that they were walking, and didn't have fly into the wind on the way back. The trio started to leave, and as hard as Elincia tried, she couldn't help but looking back. The ship was now only a tiny brown dot on the horizon, the azure sea practically swallowing it up.

On the way back to Melior, Elincia kept telling herself that she didn't need, that he was no good for her, that he wasn't worth the trouble. Because as much as she hated it, Ike was gone.

And he wasn't coming back.

* * *

><p>"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."<p>

As Sothe leaned in to kiss Micaiah, the large audience crowded in the palace's cathedral stood up and broke into applause. Somebody shouted "Long live Queen Micaiah and King Sothe!" More people joined in and eventually the church had become thrumming madhouse with everyone shouting, clapping, and stomping their feet. Pelleas groaned. This was only worsening the migraine that he had obtained the past week. Clutching his head, which was on the verge of exploding, he ran out into the street.

He stopped and took a long deep breath of the warm summer air. The sun was shining down brilliantly on Nevassa, and from the elevated plaza outside the cathedral he could see the entire city. Even the completely trashed portions where the homeless and poor lived. He sighed. After abdicating the throne to Micaiah, he had thrown himself into helping the more unfortunate people of the city rebuild their homes. In the past month, he had rebuilt one of the main marketplaces in the lower slums, which had provided countless jobs. And he grew more connected to the people than he ever had as king.

But the court, which he was still a part of, did not approve of his charity. Pelleas maybe showed in court once a week, and even then he maybe stayed an hour at the most. Nothing was being accomplished there, and Micaiah, frankly, was a worse monarch than he. Luckily she still had the adoration of the people but…that would not last much longer.

He heard from people that he worked among in the streets that brigands roamed the countryside without fear, and he knew that sometimes they even wreaked havoc in the city. And with the baronies not allowed to have a large army, they could not assist in wiping them out. Not that they would. The barons and baronesses of Daein had not only lost their right to have an army of more than one hundred soldiers, but they were also no longer allowed in the court, and only had rule of the people in their estates.

Pelleas didn't like it at all. Micaiah was losing all of her supporters, and soon she would have no one. And now that she had married Sothe, he was sure that she would lose the rest of them. Sothe was simply too brash, blunt, and downright mean to be a good king. Therefore, Pelleas had next to no appreciation for him, which he knew was unfair but Sothe deserved it. Throughout his whole reign the rogue had done nothing but belittle and ridicule everything about Pelleas. And the fact the Micaiah was in love with him was enough for Pelleas to hate him.

Pelleas could not remember when exactly he fell in love in with Micaiah. All he knew that one day he couldn't get enough of her: her big golden eyes, her silver hair, her whole personality. But the most important thing was that they were both different, both outcasts in every single society. They were both Branded. And for the life of him, he didn't know why he hadn't told her way back when he had first seen her Brand during the War of Liberation. To tell the truth he had been scared, scared of everything. So scared that he lied to another Branded that he had made a pact with a spirit!

It was the dumbest thing he had ever done, and he was glad that she knew next nothing about magic. He had discovered that only users of elemental magic, the fire, wind, and thunder tomes, could call upon spirits. Dark and light magic came from a connection or devotion to the goddesses. And he had no idea how exactly he could use dark magic, because he hadn't devoted himself to the dark god whatsoever at any point throughout his life. But he tried not to dwell on it.

The people in the cathedral were still going nuts over Micaiah and Sothe. He rolled his eyes. People could lose themselves so easily in happy moments when the whole world was going to hell. There were things that needed to be done, and a good portion of the people who could make things happen were cheering ceaselessly inside.

While he was attempting to shake his thick, shaggy, dark blue hair out of his eyes, a woman dressed in rags came up and shook him. "Lord Pelleas! Thank the goddess! I was hoping I would find you here."

He turned around and looked at her. She was breathing heavily and had a look of extreme worry and fear on her face. "What is it? What is troubling you?" he said, worried.

"Bandits! They're in the marketplace and stealing everything. And cutting down the stands!"

Pelleas scowled. He wasn't going to let a bunch of selfish brutes ruin something that these people had worked so hard for. "I'll go take care of it." he said but before she could respond he was already halfway across the plaza. He sprinted down the stairs at the end of the square and began to make his way down to market through the less crowded back streets. People flattened against walls as he rushed past, a shocked look on their face. He paid them no mind.

Minutes later he arrived at the market, only slightly out of breath. He allowed himself a small grin. Less than a month ago he would've been winded, probably on the verge of passing out, but all the work on the city had given him tan skin, muscles, and some semblance of athleticism. He scanned the scene in front of him, and found his culprits. Four brigands were currently at work trashing a fruit stand with their axes. Frightened townsfolk were running out of their way and hiding in alleyways while the old man who had been running the stand was curled up against a wall watching in horror as they ripped up his day's work.

"Leave now and I just might let you live!" he shouted, shocked at the anger and authority in his voice.

One them looked at him and proceeded to throw a watermelon at his head. Pelleas dodged it easily and took that as a "bring it on." He stepped forward and pulled his Carreau tome from a pocket in pants. He didn't like the looks of the book; it was almost empty and maybe had ten pages left.

Pelleas finished muttering the incantation and pointed at the group of bandits. A smoky, purplish ball rose above his head, and then shot into the ground. Then three cloudy spheres surrounded the criminals and converged in on each other. Three of the bandits managed to escape unscathed, but the other two were hit.

Pelleas grimaced at the scene. He had not made a clean hit, and the bandits who were hit had part of their body missing, blackish muck dripping from the wound. They ran around screaming, and one promptly fell into a large pile of the goo, which was the missing part of his body. Pelleas had to turn away. He had forgotten just how disgusting the effects of dark magic were.

He cast another spell at one of the bandits rushing towards him. This time it hit dead on and the bandit was turned into a pile of sludge. One bandit stood facing him, vomit dripping from his mouth from when he puked at the sight of his disintegrated friends. Pelleas had lost sight of the other unhurt brigand, and was starting his spell when he heard somebody tell him to watch out. He started to turn when he felt a white hot flash go down his back.

Black spots appeared in front of his eyes, but all he was aware of was the pain. There was a surprised grunt behind him, and a heavy body fell nearby. His entire body was drenched in some sort of thick heavy liquid. A gasp escaped him as another wave of pain wracked his whole body. He saw somebody leap over him and swing something shiny, and then everything went black.

* * *

><p>The sun shone down on the deck of the wooden ship, and the wood was therefore as hot as a sword being forged. A strong, cool sea breeze blew in from the open sea on the horizon, and the large man's blue hair rippled in the wind. He stood at the railing, trying not to look back, as he knew he would jump overboard and go swimming back to the ones he loved. But there was no going back. The ship had left.<p>

The ones he loved. Ike winced, struck by a wave of conflicting emotions. It was true that he wanted to explore but he was finding that now that he had left, he wanted his family back even more. The Greil Mercenaries would disband without his leadership. His men simply had too many different aspirations to stay together. Shinon and Gatrie would go after fame and glory somewhere, and he knew Rolf would follow them. That kid loved Shinon way too much to leave him. Mia was already somewhere in Daein, and Boyd had vanished two days ago after Ike said he was leaving. Mist, Titania, and Oscar would join the Royal Knights; they had friends there who would welcome them. That left Soren.

Ike's heart skipped a beat. Soren. He still didn't know what to think of his cold, bitter tactician. Except that he was no longer just his tactician. No longer just his friend either. Somewhere along the way Soren had stolen a part of his heart, which he couldn't understand either. It wasn't something he knew could happen. But Soren didn't have all of his heart. A certain Queen of Crimea had also taken his heart.

He shook his head. He had wronged Elincia so much that he was ashamed and embarrassed. It was something that was hard to do, and he knew that if Mist was here and knew what he had done, she would slap him. A lack of love had nothing to do with him leaving her; it was just that he was scared. Scared of his emotions, scared of the commitment, and most of all, scared of being an uppity noble. And it was too complicated; he liked his simple life, and he wanted to keep. But he should've let Soren come with him.

Soren would be destroyed. And Ike did not like the idea of Soren's newly found heart being broken. He would go back to being bitter, cruel, unfair, and goddess knew what else; only he would be ten times worse. But worst of all, he would be alone, with no one to rely on anymore. And Ike felt horrible, like somebody as evil as Ashnard, or worst yet, Sephiran.

The only thing that kept him from jumping ship right now and going back right now was one fact. He had decided that if he didn't die, if he could come back, he would. But not until he had made up his mind. Ike had finally come to terms with his feelings, and realized what exactly they were telling him. And they were telling him that he was in love with to completely different people, and that he had no idea who to choose.

These foreign lands hopefully had some sort of answer for him. He had no idea how they could, he just hoped that they did. And his first stop was Hatari. The journey would take three months the captain told him, and they would be circumnavigating almost the entire known continent of Tellius. With no break for another two months at the least. The idea was preposterous. For all he knew, he was the only passenger on the ship, but he was hoping that there would at least somebody that he could pass his time with.

Against all his willpower, Ike looked back. The town was completely out of sight, only a brown smudge of the green landscape of Crimea. He looked at the hills rising up behind the port town, but he couldn't make out anything or anyone. As he turned around, the sun glinted off of something, creating a brief flare. But he didn't see it. The sea was spread out before him, and so was his future.

* * *

><p>The sun was setting across Daein, painting the early summer landscape in vibrant colors such as red, orange and yellow. The countryside was slowly starting to heal after the various battles fought on its soil during the past year. The trees were gently swaying in the evening breeze while the crickets chirped in the green grass. Everything was full of life and lazily content. That was to say almost everything. Atop a small cliff overlooking a river, a man and his wyvern perched staring out into space. They seemed to suck away all the happiness of the evening, like a black hole. The wyvern's scales were a dark navy blue, which matched the man's armor. He stood at the edge of the cliff, forlornly looking out at the river and the lands beyond with his one, sad, defeated eye.<p>

Haar sighed. There was still one more delivery to make before the end of the day, yet apparently his deadline was already shot. He looked back at his wyvern, Celica, weighted down with the heavy cargo that he had to bring to the vain aristocracy of Nebula. The lord and his lady were always requesting gold ornaments and the like, usually from places clear across the country like Palmeni or Marado.

Celica snorted behind him, urging him to hurry up and get them over to Nebula before the day's end. But Haar no longer had the drive that he once had. He had once been able to fly across the continent with his cargo in less than a fortnight, swooping from manor to manor in the blink of an eye.

But that had been when another rider and her wyvern had flown with him. They had been two gods, ruling the skies whether it had be in the heat of battle or the thrill of the race against time. They had fit together like two cogs, connected in every possible way. Inseparable.

But Jill would never talk to him again, much less fly with him. And this saddened him more than he ever thought possible. He couldn't find the will to try anymore now that he had no one.

First he lost his home country, moving to a desolate land of heavy winters. Then he lost Shiharam, his one true friend and his mentor. And now Jill. His world. His purpose.

And now he found that he had lost his will to make a life for himself.

A brief clearing of someone's throat behind him shook him out of his trance. He turned around and saw a woman clad in white armor seated upon a tan horse. The hair upon her head was the color of the blazing orange sun.

He inclined his head and said, "Lady Nox."

"Haar!" a coy smile crossing her face, "I believe we know each other well enough to not be using such formalities!"

Haar grinned in despite of himself, remembering a certain night after delivering a package to the Nox Estate.

"It was one night. And I violated your station."

She snorted. "What station? The nobility has been stripped of almost all our power anyways. We are naught be rich peasants. Her Majesty has seen to that."

Haar winced at her words, but he was not about to defend Micaiah, the Queen of Daein. He knew her to have a good heart and intentions, but she was not fit to be queen. She was not politically savvy like the Apostle or Queen Elincia, even if she had more steel in her than they did. A comfortable silence fell between them, the noblewoman astride her horse and Haar leaning against Celica's midriff. They stayed quiet awhile, listening to the day dying, the birds softly chirping while settling down for the night, the frogs beginning to call out to another down on the riverbank.

She opened her mouth to speak, and then quickly snapped it shut.

"What is it Rebecka?" Haar asked softly.

She smiled, but it was a nervous one. "I was just wondering where you were going to stay for the night. Since it is almost dark and well…uhm…"

"I've been going so slowly today that I won't make it to Nebula until the night is past half spent?" he finished for her, a rueful expression carved into his face.

"Yeah. I know that I haven't known you for very long but…"

Barely over a month, Haar realized. And during that month they had maybe been together five times, including the encounter happening right now.

"…I thought that may be you could…" she continued, growing obviously more nervous, wringing both of her hands together and talking faster.

But, Haar admitted, they had a strong connection. And it had happened rather fast too. They had, well…

"…stay over for tonight. You know since you have no place to go. And we don't have to, you know, do what we did last time." she finished in a rush, her cheeks a bright red.

"Yeah. That would be nice. To stay over." Haar said, and surprisingly he came to discover that he was not reluctant at all. "Just be ready though, you can hear my snoring from miles away."

Rebecka snickered. "Haha. Yeah, I remember."

An awkward silence fell over them as they both recalled that night. Haar decided that it would be best to not repeat that scenario. At least not until they knew each other better.

Haar mounted his wyvern and said with a graceful sweep of his arm, "Shall we, milady?"

And with the both of them laughing, the wyvern rider and the noblewoman rode off in the direction opposite of the setting sun. And the whole time while he was with her, Haar didn't think of Jill once.

* * *

><p>A squat stone building sat sunken into the surrounding sands. Although it was no more than one story, it stretched out extremely far, the inside a labyrinth of conjoining rooms. One of these rooms overlooked the rest of the small island. Almost no trees grew on the island, and the majority was filled with sand dunes. A small village, filled more stone buildings, stood not far off from the expansive house situated in the center of the island. Some farmland surrounded these dwellings, but produced little crop. The sun was harsh, and everything on the land was burnt to a crisp.<p>

A man with brown hair stood in a room overlooking a strange, green sea. A shallow gold bowl was placed on the windowsill and it was filled with water that looked like it had been sitting there for days. The man waved his hand over the vessel; ripples mysteriously appeared for no apparent reason, and the water went from a dirty brown to a crisp blue. He leaned forward and spat out a command.

"Bearn! Come here."

A few minutes passed, and then a young man with aquamarine step forward into the room. "You called?" he said, his voice hesitant and tinged with an ounce of fear.

The brown haired man spun around and fixed his fierce gold eyes on his younger companion. "You should show more respect," he hissed "or else you may find yourself unable to show respect at all!"

"Please forgive Lord Nahtaivel."

The man snorted in contempt and turned to face the window again, his blue robes twirling as he did. "Have you heard from anybody yet?"

Bearn gulped. "No milord. Only Hesper's report from a week ago. I have yet to hear from the other two."

"Hmph. Well it doesn't matter. We have our agents infiltrated into every nation on that continent. I am not worried at all. The time to act will come soon."

"Uh…Lord Nahtaivel, that is not exactly true." Bearn paused, swallowing his fear, and then continued. "Our men in the Laguz countries were discovered and killed."

Nahtaivel clenched his fist and pounded it against the wall. He was about to turn and yell at Bearn when the shallow bowl in front produced a light ring, like that of a bell. The water once again turned clear, and man with greasy gray hair and a sneaky face appeared in the water. "Hesper." Nahtaivel said simply.

The man in the water sneered, and said "I have an update for Your Majesty. The boys among the sub-humans didn't make it."

"I already knew that you fool." Nahtaivel said, "And don't forget who you're talking to boy."

"Ah…your father. Forgive me for I had forgotten. But past that. I have the perfect person for our plan. He's rumored to be the smartest man in Tellius, and possibly one of the strongest sages they've ever seen. A superb tactician too, both in the battlefield and in the political world. He sounds good doesn't he?"

Nahtaivel didn't say anything for a moment, going over all the information and rolling it around in his head before asking, "Will this person want to do this?"

Hesper grinned wickedly. "He's also considered to be the coldest man on the continent. I think we won't have any problems. Am I done?"

"Go. I have no more need of you, but just be sure that you have this man, and those people wrapped around your finger." Nahtaivel dismissed him with a wave of his hand and the greasy man faded from the bowl. He once again looked out at his small island nation. There were at most ten thousand people who served him, and even then, less than half were part of his army. It was too small for him, and he yearned to be bigger, grander, and stronger. And for that he needed more land; so he had set his sights on the only other known continent.

Tellius.

He scowled. Those lucky mountain bastards. His grandfather had been alive during the Great Flood, and he had told Nahtaivel, as a young boy, how the seas raged and destroyed, wiping out civilization after civilization. Then he told him that Tellius, the land of the stupid ignorant mountain people had survived completely unscathed. His grandfather had died almost seventy years ago, one of the oldest fish in the sea. And after he did the fish-men had him and his people to fend for themselves. Except for his father. His father had with him and his mother until his dying day, and he loved him for it.

A bead of sweat slowly rolled off his forehead and fell onto his arm. It was getting way too hot. Another reason why he had to conquer more land. His people would be wiped out before the century was over; the heat caused all the crops to die and the big fish to swim to deeper, cooler waters that his fisherman couldn't get too. In moments he was drenched in sweat. Muttering something in the ancient language, he closed his hand and then opened it above his head. A steady, ice cold mist fell from his palm, cooling him off. He let it fall until he cooled off and then made a fist, making the mist stop.

Nahtaivel turned around and caught Bearn looking longingly at his hand. He glared at him and shouted "Get lost you insolent boy! Leave me in peace!" An evil grin slowly spread across his face, making him look like some sort of demon. He needed it to be quiet; he had an invasion to plan.

* * *

><p><strong>I hope you liked it! Please review, and tell me if I should keep this idea going. Thanks!<strong>


	2. One Month Later

**Author's Note: Hey everybody I'm back! Sorry for the long wait, I promise there will no longer be three weeks between updates. As for excuses, well I don't like them but I'm gonna give a few anyways. I've just been unable to get to the computer with school starting, getting grounded for a week, and being sick for the past few days. I know it's lame but...well there's nothing else to say. I just hope I haven't lost any readers.**

**Review Responses: **

**Anonymous-I have no idea who you are but if you're reading this I'm sure you know who you are! ;p So anyways thanks for the support and as for Aimee, well I felt like she was kind of a picked on in the game and I wanted to show a different side of her. And Soren will be a complex character so watch out!**

**GSFEfan25-Thanks for the support. I've been reading a few of your stories and they're pretty good, and I promise I'll find some time to review them! **

**Gunlord500-Once again, thanks for the support. And in regarding Pelleas, I was trying to show his reaction to how Sothe treated in game but I may be a little off. So if you (or anybody else for that matter) could just warn me if I'm going OoC it would be very much appreciated! And I'm working on your Renault story but it's MASSIVE and it's taking me awhile. I'll review for it sooner rather than later. **

**As always please read and review! Flames, cheerleading, and constructive criticism are encouraged, so read on. (No more long author's notes. I promise.)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Fire Emblem or Intelligent Systems.**

* * *

><p><em>One Month Later<em>

The blade shined as it traced an arc across the blue sky, the sun turning it into a beacon of light, and it came to rest alongside a pale, bare neck. The delicate hand wielding the sword flipped her wrist to the right and in one swift movement, sheathed the weapon.

"Ha! I win again! For the fifth time in row!" Elincia winked at her younger companion, and absentmindedly ran an arm across her brow. Melior had grown very hot now that Spring had left, taking with her the cool breezes and calm, chilling rains. Only scorching temperatures and still, sticky air remained, causing one who walked outside to immediately break into a body-drenching sweat.

"Elincia! This is so unfair! Since when did you become so good at swordplay?"

Elincia grinned, amused at Mist's frustration. They had been fencing for the past two hours, and each time she kept finding her blade resting at Mist's neck. What Mist didn't know was that Elincia had been practicing day in and day out with Lucia, and was in fact becoming quite adept with a blade.

She shook her hair and raising her head with an uppity air she said, "I have always been good. Perhaps you are simply jealous of my incredible, innate skill?"

Mist snorted, and shook her head. "As if! Ike just spent more time teaching you things like swordplay than he did with me." She finished with an angry, spiteful edge, and immediately blushed when she saw the short flash of pain that crossed Elincia.

"Sorry Queen Elincia. That was mean, and I shouldn't have said it. Will you forgive me?"

The green-haired woman's features softened, and she approached Mist with a troubled expression on her face. She put her arm around the younger girl's slender shoulders and gently guided her toward the castle and out of the courtyard. "Come on. You don't have to call me that Mist! You know better than that. And let's go inside, the heat is making the both of us way too cranky."

Mist looked up and smiled at Elincia, allowing herself to be guided inside, her practice sword trailing along in the dirt behind her. Elincia could not help but to think of Ike again, no matter how hard she tried. Every day for the past month, in fact ever since he had left, she had thought of him: his face, his muscles, and his caring personality (at least towards her). And more and more she kept realizing just how much she had lost. The two young women walked through a small hallway, and emerged in another courtyard, this one much vaster and packed down hard with dirt. Their previous training area had been smaller, filled with plants, and completely deserted. Now they were in the territory of the Royal Knights.

Elincia scanned the grounds the grounds looking for a few familiar faces among a sea of persons unknown. Most of the people she saw in front of her were trainees learning how to properly ride horses when in battle. Geoffrey had come to her one day and had suggested that they mount the entire army upon horses with the exception of the watchmen who patrolled the castle walls at night. She could still remember the conversation, despite that it had been close to a fortnight ago.

"_Geoffrey I simply don't understand the point of such an action! It will cost money, training, and cause our men to be more inexperienced than the rest of the continent!" She was exasperated. He had just appeared to her out of the blue, and proposed this atrocious idea! It was simply pointless to be frank. And so soon after she had her heart torn wide open; she wasn't ready to deal with such things at this time._

"_But Your Majesty! This could give us an edge over the rest of Tellius! We wouldn't have to fear invasion or rebellion and we could mobilize extremely fast."_

"_You are being foolish. We have nothing to fear from other nations. Every single ruler is friends with the others and the likelihood of another war is so slim it's nonexistent! We don't need to do anything with the army. We are fine." She did realize how contradictory she was being, but now was not the time to think of such subtle political wording. Plus it was Geoffrey. He didn't understand anything at all about such things. Just a straight-laced little knight._

"_You're making a mistake." _

"_Fine! Go ahead and do it then! Just leave me alone!" She stormed off, muttering under her breath. He had turned around, a worried look on his face, and gone the other way. _

But looking back at it now she was glad that she had agreed to his plan. They did have an edge over everybody else, and it helped to know that their army was superior to everybody else's on the continent. The Laguz and other Beorc nations had been destroyed by the wars, and Crimea was the only one with any semblance of power.

"Do you think I should join the Royal Knights? I'm good on a horse. And it looks like they need healers."

Elincia looked at Mist, her eyes glued to the training knights in front of her. She was unsure how exactly to respond. She knew that all Mist's remaining "family" was pledged to Crimea as knights but she also didn't want to lose the only person that she had been able to talk to these last few weeks. Plus Mist did not belong on the battlefield. She had seen countless battles, most of them gory and strewn with death, and she felt that Mist had no business seeing such things at her tender age. It didn't cross her mind that her new friend had seen more pain and death than Elincia herself.

"Mist I…uh…I don't think that…"

"It's the best idea? I presume that's what you were going to say Your Majesty?"

Both Elincia and Mist whirled around, looking for the oddly familiar voice that had crept on up behind them. Titania stood with a small smirk on her face and proceeded to bow when Elincia turned around to face her. The Queen couldn't help but to think how odd her life was. One of her saviors, one of the people who took her in, and won back her country was now on knee right in front of her.

"My thoughts exactly Dame Titania. But please don't bend on knee in front of me! I deserve nothing of the sort."

"Elincia…" Mist began to say, a mixture of concern and slight outrage at what her friends were implying towards her joining the knights. She was about to start her argument when Titania butted in.

"I hope you don't mind my bluntness milady, but I have bent on knee before the previous kings and queens of this country and plan on continuing to do so. You deserve more credit than you give yourself. Elincia Ridell Crimea is just as great of a ruler as her father King Ramon, and all those before him." Titania finished with a graceful rise to her feet and met Elincia's gave with a gentle, unwavering gaze.

Elincia gently inclined her head, a faint blush upon her cheeks. She still felt that she was not worthy of her father's name but she appreciated the woman's gesture all the same. She knew Titania to be gently blunt at times, so she took her words with more value than say Bastian or Kieran. All in all, she was still unsure of her prowess as a ruler.

"Why can't I join the knights?" Mist interjected, the pent up emotions that she had held for the past minute spilling out in one simple, flabbergasted question.

"Mist! You're being preposterous! You can't join the knights, you're much too young! Most of the squires are barely past seventeen! And it's a grueling lifestyle, right Titania?" Elincia turned to look at her red-haired cohort and found a bemused smile on the woman's face. "Are you not going to back me up on this?"

"I'd have you know that Mist is almost the same age as Ike was when he took over the company." A wince crossed Elincia's face when she heard his name. "And little Mist here has seen a lot more battles than he had at the time. Almost continually over the past four and a half years in fact."

"B-but that was in times of war! Desperate measures had to be taken! I…it's…uh…" She knew she was losing the fight, marked especially by the told-you-so look on Mist's face.

"So there should be no problem with Mist joining during times of peace right? It's not like she will be seeing any battle right?"

"Elincia. I'll go through the entire squire training first I promise. And we can still talk! It's not like I'll be training ALL the time."

Mist's statement hit home immediately. The truth was that once Mist joined the knights, the last of Elincia's friends would be gone. Geoffrey would be commanding the knights, among them her uncle, Mist and Titania. And with Bastian off doing whatever he did behind her back and Lucia taking over Delbray from her father, Elincia would be left all alone in the castle. Which might do some good. She could get some laws past the nobles in her spare time, and continue Crimea down the path her father had started.

"Fine. But I won't knight you until you can beat me in fencing!"

Mist grinned and went skipping into the training field with Titania hurrying after her. Elincia headed back to the cool insides of the castle; preferably back up to her rooms to think things over. Like how to fix the Laguz racism in Arbor, or how to improve relations with Felirae. But the first thing on her list was to deal with the peskiest problem. Getting over that muscle-headed mercenary with the gorgeous blue hair. Getting over the fact that he had left his headband in her nightstand drawers. Getting over Ike.

* * *

><p>Sand whipped across the desert, flying from the endless ledges and small dunes. On all sides the desolated landscape was surrounded by mountains; however this seemed to intensify the winds instead of abate them. With the sun glaring down upon the reflective sands, the land seemed to shine all around with an intense white light. With the exception of two small black specks on the horizon. Before one of them the sand seemed to mystically part, revealing a hard-packed dirt surface a few feet below, while the other scurried quickly behind him before the sands closed back down.<p>

Soren sighed, more overcome with annoyance than physical exhaustion. He had been traveling through the desert for two days, making good progress until he ran into this woman. If she could even be called such; she reminded him more of a clingy little girl than an actual mature adult. And her voice! It was the most screechy, grating voice he had ever heard, worse than even Aimee, that shopkeeper who had tried to take Ike from him. Not like he ever actually had Ike. Which was why he was in this goddess forsaken desert in the first place.

After Ike had left on his ship, without Soren mind you, the sage had decided almost immediately to go to the one other place where he was welcome: the Branded colony. He supposed that he could've stayed with the Greil Mercenaries, and he definitely could've found a job as a tactician in Crimea's army, but rank and money had never held a high spot in his heart. Without Ike, there was no one left who legitimately cared about him, so he went in search of someone who would accept him. And that would be his own kind, out here in the desert.

All those years ago when Stefan had asked Soren to come with him to the desert to live with his little colony, Soren had told himself that he would never actually go. But that was before Ike had left him. Now he was alone, and although he liked (only a little) it, he was bitter. His newly unthawed heart had first been frozen again and then shattered. With every step his heart ached and his mind screamed for him to go back, to go back to Ike and maybe find a semblance of normal life. But with each step he also got closer to getting over him, with the only consequence being the return of the apathy he once held. In his opinion this was a small price; once he had been unable to feel emotion other than hurt and now he could surely go through it again.

"How much longer until we get there? I'm hot and tired and hungry and thirsty and sweaty and hot and hungry and tired and…"

"Elle!" Soren practically spat out the blonde woman's name without bothering to turn around and look at her. "How am I supposed to know? Have I been here before?"

She turned her wide green eyes at him. "You've never been to the Colony before?" she said, her voice conveying innocence and naivety, "I thought you said you've been in the desert twice!"

Soren opened his mouth and then snapped it shut. He had underestimated her; although she acted stupid and bratty she was actually listening intently and filing away every word that he said. And she had just lashed back at him while sounding like a five-year-old the whole time.

"Yes. I've been to the desert a couple times, but it's hard to remember where exactly when there are no landmarks. Am I not correct?"

"I thought you said that the first time you were here you fought around some ruins? Wouldn't that be a landmark?"

He gritted his teeth. "Yes, yes it would be. But do you see any nearby?"

"We could go check out that big rock thing poking out of the sand."

He looked to where her finger was pointing at a large spur of rock jutting out from the desert. It was a little off their current course, but by the time they reached it the sun would be setting and it would give them some shade. How he had missed the behemoth before he had no idea, but it was there and worth the time to inspect. He just wished that Elle didn't have to come with him.

"Okay, we will. Do you want to take a break?" Soren had no idea why he was being so nice lately. Granted he had just been yelling at her, but then things like what he just said would spill out and surprise him. Not to mention he actually liked the company of another human being, as hard as it was to admit. He could feel her Brand, and he knew she could feel his, and in an odd way, it was comforting to know that he could be around a person that didn't care what he was. If even such a person was an annoying, whiny stranger.

"Sure! Can you do your wind thing and clear the sand away?"

Without responding, Soren twirled his hand and the sand nearby spun away from him and Elle as if they were in the center of a whirlwind. She stuck her hand out for the water skin, but before giving it to her he drank about half of it himself. He envied her short, loose clothing. Underneath his heavy, black robes he was being cooked like some piece of meat for dinner. Just sprinkle some spices on him and he was sure that it would be good enough for Oscar; the man cooked anything he could get his hands on, at least in Soren's opinion.

He looked up and caught her rummaging through one of his tomes, her face glued to the pages of the leather-covered book which he had made specifically for traveling.

"How did you get that!" he shouted incredulously, amazed at her sneakiness and ashamed at his inability to pay attention to his surroundings.

She shrugged. "I'm a descendant of cats. We're supposed to be quiet and quick and clever. You're probably descended from one of those clunky dragons. All brawn, no brains. Or dexterity."

"Well, at least I'm not frisky like you. And I don't lick myself to bathe."

She shot him a glare and threw the Tornado tome back to him. He had noticed that she carried no weapon, not in her belt nor in a scabbard on her leg. Normally he thought that she might have lost it in the desert during their journey, but when he met her just outside the Grann, before it got sandy and was still rocky, she didn't have a weapon.

_Soren sat in front of the fire staring into the pile of sputtering branches and smoking leaves that he had managed to find. Out here on the edge of the desert there was little vegetation, and the plants that did grow here were no more than dried out husks of former bushes. A full moon hung in the sky above him, yet he still did not see the petit woman who walked up behind him. _

"_Hey there! Where are you off to?"_

_He clutched his spell book, opened a page and uttered an incantation, all the while standing up and turning to face some mysterious voice. Pointing to where he heard the woman two seconds ago he finished the spell and unleashed a flurry of seething winds upon his target. Yet there were no cries of pain, nor any thud to represent the falling of his foe. He paused, bewildered, and then proceeding to scan the empty, barren landscape. _

"_I'm right here. Not very fast are you?"_

_Soren turned around again and saw a small, blonde-haired woman sitting on a rock near his campfire. Her yellow-green eyes seemed to glow in the dark, and her lightly tanned skin was faintly outlined against the fire. He felt a sort of tingle in the pit of stomach and immediately turned his attention to her toned leg, finding that a Brand lay there. The woman looked up at him, finding his forehead and studying the red mark that she found there. _

"_I assume we're going to the same place. But I wonder why your mark is red; everybody's that I've seen has always been black. My name's Elle. What's yours?"_

"_Why do you want to know? It's dangerous to be alone in the middle of the wild, especially for a woman." Soren looked at her levelly, no longer feeling threatened. She carried with her no weapon. _

_Her eyes narrowed. "I can take care of myself thank you very much, despite the fact that I am a woman. And since the only civilization nearby is a Branded colony, and as we are both Branded, I would think it to be polite to know the person I'll be seeing there at the very least."_

"_Soren."_

"_Is that your name?"_

_Soren gave her a look as if to say what else would it be and she quieted. Without asking, she began to set up for the night, pulling out a thick blanket from a small packsack slung over her shoulder. He didn't like that she was staying but he himself had invited her; it was him who said how dangerous it was to travel alone. And it was, and it only made sense for them to travel together, as they were going to the same place. With that he sat back down, and proceeded to stare at the fire until he fell asleep. _

After their chilly first encounter, and a good night's rest, the two had warmed up, and for the second time in Soren's life, they had set up a kind of rapport. It reminded him painfully of Ike, and he supposed that was part of the reason why he disliked her so. If it wasn't for the memories of his commander, he realized that he would probably like the girl a lot. As odd as it was, her immaturity amused him. But he told himself that those thoughts were just exhaustion and wrote them off.

"We should get going."

Without a word the two got up and proceeded to head to the outcropping of rock to the south. There was little talking on the way there, and by the time the pair was in the monolith's shadow the day was almost wasted away. Elle yawned and proceeded to stretch like a cat on a nearby rock, extending her arms and shaking her shoulder blades.

"Thank Ashera, we're almost there."

Soren was about to agree when it dawned on him that she didn't know any more than he did where this safe haven was. At least that's what she had led him to believe. He was ready to accuse when the thought of leading her on entered his mind. Once she led him to this colony, he would dispose of her and whatever motives she was holding from him.

"Really? How much farther?"

"Not much. It'll only be a few more minutes and then we'll be…", she stopped suddenly, her face pale at her realization that she had betrayed herself. "I…uh…"

He snarled, and advanced upon her. "Who told you to bring me here? Speak now woman, or else you'll find that soon you won't be able to speak at all!" Soren raised his hand, and around it the winds began to circle and whip around, drawing in sand from the ground.

"I can't tell you. I'm not allowed to."

The sage could hear the same frosty steel in her voice that he heard the first night he met her and decided that she would never give in. With this, he grabbed her by the shoulders and heaved her with all his might into the sands. He then unleashed his Tornado spell upon her and stood back to watch the fun. She had managed to escape the magic itself, but could not avoid the havoc it wreaked around her. The sand was sucked in all around her, and she slowly began to sink, sand traveling up from knee height to whatever height Soren wished to make it. He cut off the spell when she sunk up to her neck, and then left her. She would bake in the sun, hopefully perishing due to the harsh climate or the hot sand. And if she didn't, he could always come back and finish the job.

He walked away from her, and continued on his journey going in a southwestwardly direction. Now that she was out of his way, he could hear a ringing up ahead that marked the call of the Branded which only those with Laguz blood in them could feel. The thought that maybe that was what had led Elle to know where the colony was never crossed Soren's mind, and he never looked back despite her cries. But he also never heard the person who snuck up behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"That wasn't very nice now was it?"

Soren stiffened at the voice, and was promptly hit with an onrush of the familiar feeling of remembrance known as déjà vu. It took a few seconds before he turned and spoke the man's name, his voice devoid of any emotion or surprise, despite being completely taken off guard.

"Stefan."

"Yes, that would be me. I dare say that you haven't made the best impression with my people Soren. You arrive on our doorstep while leaving a girl to die in the sands. I'm afraid many of us are very scared of you."

"Don't mock my intelligence Stefan. People like us have seen much worse than a _woman_ being left to die. Plus she was a risk. She obviously knew where you guys were stationed which opened up endless possibilities as to why she was traveling with me. For all I knew I was walking into a trap."

Stefan simply looked at him as if to say 'don't mock my intelligence either.' He motioned for Soren to follow him and walked away through the sand. At a quick pace Soren followed him, eventually catching up and walking by his side. After trudging through the desert for a few minutes, Stefan stopped abruptly, and proceeded to unsheathe his sword. The dark-haired mage cautiously laid a hand on his tome, wary of what his new companion was about to do. The taller, muscular man raised his sword and proceeded to stab his sword into the shifting sands beneath him. The sword hit something beneath the surface and produced a dull, clanging sound, and Stefan took a few steps back, spreading his arms wide.

"Lo and behold, the great colony of the Branded, situated _underneath_ the vast and deadly Grann."

A loud rumbling came from the desert floor in front of them, and the sand began to shift downward to a slit ahead. As this was happening, the area before them proceeded to get lower and lower until Soren could see some sort of stone protruding from the sand. After a minute, a set of stairs had materialized leading the pair down into some sort of hallways beneath the desert itself. The sand above the stairs had fallen into some sort of shaft that was not visible, and all the sands to the side of the pit were held up by stone walls that Soren had mistaken earlier for the remnants of some ancient civilization. Stefan began to descend down the stairs, and when the newcomer didn't follow, he looked back.

"Well you're here now. Are you going to come down or not? We're not leaving this entrance open up all day."

Soren eyed the whole cavernous entrance and town (if you could call it that) beyond critically and with a little inkling of fear. "Will this collapse on me?"

"No." Stefan stated, and then began to laugh hysterically. "At least it hasn't yet. There's no telling what could happen today or tomorrow."

Not liking the man's reaction but deciding to follow him anyways, Soren descended into the depths of subterranean colony. The tunnels seemed to be organic and natural, even though he had suspected that this whole thing was man made. A loud grating sound startled him, and in looking back, Soren saw two wooden poles pushing the stairs back to their previous position, and trapping him in the caves. From what he could tell, this whole thing was an endless labyrinth, designed to confuse and box in whoever had the misfortune to get stuck down here.

"How does that work?" Soren asked, motioning toward the ascending staircase. "And how does the sand get back up there?"

Stefan shrugged, and once again motioned for Soren to follow him, leaving the younger man's questions unanswered. What had started as a leisurely stroll in the desert had now turned into a fast paced walk, and Soren had trouble keeping up with the more agile swordmaster. However considering that this was supposed to be a colony of people, the halls (or tunnels, depending on how you viewed them) were oddly deserted, and they had not met a single soul. Soren voiced this observation, and this time, Stefan did answer.

"This area is not as safe to the people as other places. We have built nothing over here, and we rely on the ancient technology of the Zunanma to hold up the desert. It's risky and dangerous, plus their tools are ancient. And as for your other questions, nobody knows how the staircase and works, and the wind takes care of the sand issue."

Although Soren did not know Stefan extremely well, he thought that he seemed a little put off and although it bothered him, he did not believe it necessary to inquire as to why. He just wanted to get out of this part of the caves as the floor, the walls, and especially the ceiling groaned consistently. Since Stefan occasionally cast worried glances toward the 'roof', he was obviously disturbed by the groaning as much as Soren was.

In a room up ahead, the two men head a screeching scrape and an cross sigh. As they passed the room, Soren looked inside and then quickly hurried past, almost breaking to a slight jog. The room had held three people; two of them had been almost identical, inane-seeming brutes, but the third had been a very hot, sandy, and angry Elle. In her hand she had held a short double-sided axe, which when the skinny mage had walked by, she flicked forward and the handle had extended another three feet.

Soren looked over at Stefan. "Why is she here? How did she know where you guys were?"

"I sent her to go find you and bring you back here." Stefan stated, his voice deadpan, but he wouldn't look Soren in the eyes. Immediately warning bells flared in Soren's brain and he immediately knew that Stefan was hiding something.

"Why?" The question seemed to ask for an explanation for everything that had happened over the past few days, but Stefan chose only to answer one part of it.

"I sent her because there is someone here who wants to see you. I don't know for what though."

At this Soren was ushered into a room opened up by another bland, dull Branded, although this time the guard was a woman. The room was nicely furnished considering the rest of the habitation, and there was somehow natural light as well, although there were no windows visible. A man looked up at Soren, his greasy gray hair hanging in his face, contrasting sharply with his clean cut white leather outfit. His voice was completely unpleasant but oddly addictive at the same time, and the dark-robed traveler was immediately enthralled.

"Ah! Why hello there my dirty blooded friend!" At this Soren scowled but said nothing. "It's Soren right? The name's Hesper. You see I'm here for a very specific reason, as are you. You're here to take command of these "hybrids", and to go claim your birthright! Your parents would be so proud, if they were still alive. Let's got take down that royal imposter!"

At this he winked, and Soren reeled on the spot, only staying on his feet because Stefan had grabbed his arm. This scumbag knew, knew about everything there was to know about him. Soren was the only one who knew his parents, about Almedha and Ashnard, and it bothered him that it had leaked out. But what frightened him the most was this; which country was he supposed to take over? Daein? Or even worse yet, was it to be Goldoa? As if reading his mind, the man cackled, and his laugh drowned out all thought.

* * *

><p>The sun beat down on the lightly outlined path, its power lessened and broken only by the branches of the pine trees that populated the region. A large, dark blue-grey wyvern flew just below the tree line, a man with one eye perched upon her back. She swooped down and landed on the path next to a woman seated upon a tan horse, and proceeded to crawl along next to the pair. The horse, whose name was Topaz, was oddly unalarmed by the large reptile's presence, and the wyvern herself seemed uniquely indifferent as well.<p>

"Did you see anything?"

Haar looked over at Rebecka seated upon her horse, her body exhibiting perfect posture despite being underneath heavy off-white armor. Her orange hair blew back from her face in the gentle breeze, and his breath caught, once again caught off guard by her beauty.

"You look beautiful."

She turned her hazel eyes toward him and smiled tentatively, the smile of a new lover who is still unsure of her partner's intentions.

"I should hope I always look beautiful to you Haar, or else we may be having some problems!", she winked at him, and continued. "And you look very stoic way up there on Celica. But we got a job to do, and as much as I would love to sit here all day complimenting each other, we got to get to work. So once again, did you see anything," this followed by another pause, likely to consider if she was being too harsh. "love?"

"No the town is quiet, and the bandits aren't anywhere that I can see. Although I did see another wyvern rider off in the distance."

He leaped down from his wyvern and walked next to her, smelling the sappiness of the pine boughs and the puffs of dust rising up from underneath his boots. Letting go of the reins, she reached down and grasped his hand, and he didn't let go. Despite the fact that both their hands were gloved in gauntlets and the whole ordeal was painfully awkward.

"Are you nervous?"

She squeezed his hand and Haar took that as an affirmative, yet he wasn't worried. Although she had only seen battle a few times, he knew her to be a gentle, kidding soul off the battlefield, but once blood was drawn she changed. A warrior of unparalleled beauty and skill, the pampered noble became an ice-cold she-demon. But he loved her for it, and it did not surprise him. He had always been fond toward the tough gal but she was different, although he couldn't a finger as to how. All he knew was that she made him feel relaxed, at home, and at peace. With her he felt like he belonged, which was something he had never felt before in his whole life, not even when serving under Shiharam.

"Yeah, I am nervous but I know I can do this. Especially with you beside me."

Haar looked up at her, a faint smile hovering on his lips, and on hers as well. They were both in battle mode, and this trivial talk was simply routine, a habit from being together day in and out for a little over a month. A gush of air swept over them and Haar looked over at Celica, who was at the moment flying away from them. At this he relaxed; if Celica felt that she could fly off and hunt, then there was no immediate danger. And when he needed her, all he had to whistle and she would be by his side. She never went far.

"Whoah Topaz." Rebecka pulled back on the reigns and she came to a complete stop before Haar noticed, making her pull him back. He spun and pulled down on her arm instead, planting what was meant to be a quick kiss on her lips, but it instead turned long and deep. She pulled away and grinned, alighting her previously serious face with radiance.

"Well I guess we're not in a rush anymore, are we? That was a pleasant surprise." A brief giggle escaped her before she could continue. "Surprise me again."

He pulled her down from Topaz, and they engaged in another deep, soulful kiss. Still kissing, they staggered over to one of the pines, where they both fell to the ground beneath the tree, its branches providing shade. They both laughed; hers a light, mirth-filled giggle, his a deep, resonating chuckle. Before they resumed their make out session (and possibly more), Rebecka slid off the eye patch situated on Haar's face, revealing a glazed over white, rheumy eye with just a hint of a light blue circle in the center. He sighed, partly in exasperation, partly in ecstasy.

"Hush. You know that I want all of you, the good, the bad, and yes, even the ugly. And that I want to see all of you when we're like this. So shut up and kiss me."

"What if somebody comes by?"

"No one will, this town is in the middle of nowhere. Shut up and kiss me already! Dear goddess I've never met a man with such little sex drive!"

He did as she said, pouring everything he had into it. But he also recalled the first time she had uncovered that patch, becoming the second person he had ever revealed himself to. Only she and Shiharam knew about his blind eye, and that pretty much said it all.

_The stars shined out of the night sky like bits of ice set against the blackest of cloths. The moon didn't shine; it was her time of the month to disappear for a few nights, and the only light cast was from the stars. Nox castle, in all its ruined glory, was for the moment in the dark, the only light shining from the next to deserted estate coming from the destroyed western tower. _

_Haar sat by the campfire in what was the newly established Nox aerie with its only inhabitant: his own wyvern Celica. He looked up at the night sky thanks to the absence of a roof to block his view, courtesy of a certain dragon princeling. After being here a week he still didn't feel completely comfortable and it was why he had come up here to be with Celica. There was no doubt that he liked Lady Nox, maybe even more than liked her, it was just that the constant hovering of the servants unnerved him, and it pained him to be down in the manor. _

_Footsteps echoed softly behind him, upsetting his hard-achieved peace, yet he himself was not upset. He would know that gait anywhere, and he was glad that Rebecka had decided to hunt him down and keep him company. She walked up behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder. _

"_Yeah. They were annoying me too. I was trying to practice archery but…well you know how they are."_

"_It's why I came up here. Are you ever going to fix up the castle?"_

_She looked at him, slightly confused, and a bit taken aback. "No. Why? Do you think it needs to be?"_

"_Ha. No it most definitely does not need to be fixed up. I like it exactly the way it is. Just the other nobles will ridicule you behind your back."_

"_I like the castle this way too. It reminds me of the hardship our country had to go through. And how much it still needs to be fixed. Plus I have no money to fix it up anyways."_

_They were both in an unusually somber mood; it may have the unnaturally chilly night, or the absence of the moon, but Haar thought that it was neither. It was just one of those nights when all the sadness and pain of the world seemed to creep into your soul and take root there until the sun rose and flushed it out. Not to mention it showed a new side to Rebecka. She reminded him of a gem with so many different faces and sides that it was impossible to know how many there were. Tonight her normally bright orange hair was a dull, flat entity, and her sparkling eyes had become heavy and sad. He could tell she was remembering some memory that she had refused to acknowledge before. _

"_What is it? You can tell me, there's no judging here. At least sit down."_

_She did, and he wrapped his arm around her, conveying all the warmth and comfort he could muster. Scooting closer to him, and curling up into the cup of his arm and side, she began. _

"_I was thinking of my father. He died on the battlefield during the Mad King's War while fighting under Bertram. I never got the chance to bury him, as he was buried in a mass grave over in Crimea. And I guess I had forgotten how close I'd been to dying on the battlefield like him if it wasn't for this."_

_She got up briefly and twirled her arms around her, pointing at the ruined tower that they were now sitting in. The tower with a partial stone floor and the rest of it plank wood, since the holes had to be covered up. Stairs spiraled along the inside edge and rubble littered the floor, all remnants of things that had been destroyed and could no longer be fixed. He had an idea of what she was referring to, but past that, he was lost as to what her close to death experience was. _

"_Were you here? When the sub-hum…I mean Laguz laid siege to the castle? I remember seeing some Beorc."_

_Realization hit Haar like the coming dawn but he held his tongue and simply answered her._

"_No. I wasn't in the courtyard. But I was outside the gates and when Kurthnaga came, well it was the scariest thing I had ever seen. That boy is big."_

"_Yes. I thank the goddess every day that he came. You see I fought alongside Queen Micaiah, although if she knew it was me, I probably would've been sent back inside." Rebecka smiled wryly at this, but continued nonetheless. _

"_There was an abandoned uniform in one of the rooms on the east wing, so I put Topaz away in a safe place and put it on. I went outside and manned one of the ballista, I think it was the western one. Anyways, the line kept falling back and eventually only Sir Tauroneo, Lady Jill, and I were the last ones holding back the beasts on our side. I think a purple haired swordmaster was there too but I can't remember." Another pause, and this time she came back to his side and curled up again. _

"_I think the line would've held if that general, I think his name was Ike, wouldn't have come, but that's beside the point. Anyways, some of the sub…Laguz had snuck in through one of the side doors and were about to leap out behind us from a pit. Nobody else had noticed so I jumped down there and took them all out. And I almost died too. If that dragon hadn't come…well there were more of the beasts right outside the entryway, and they were coming towards me but Kuthna came and they left. You said his name was Kuthna right? Lady Jill saw me and spirited me away. Even when she was giving me an elixir, I don't think she knew I was Lady Nox, even though I had my helmet off. And well, that's it. Ha, some story right?_

_Haar smiled. He knew she was brave but to be brave enough to go down into Laguz lore was something. "Yeah, I think you'd be happy to hear that the Gallian soldiers spoke of a legendary Daein sniper that jumped into a pit and took out five of their men. That story lasted until the end of the war, and that's something for the Laguz."_

_She looked up at him and without warning, slid off his eye patch. He was alarmed, but he made no move to snatch it back. They knew each other too well to hide secrets, and he knew she wouldn't care that he had a bad eye. And he was right, as she didn't gasp or shrink away, just stayed put and rubbed her thumb over the black silk of his patch._

"_It's been that way since birth." It was more a statement then a question, but Haar answered her anyways. _

"_Yeah."_

"_It completes you I think. You're a mysterious man Haar, and that eye just adds to it. But I still think you see more with one eye than most men do with two eyes."_

_He was all of the sudden overcome with love for her, and he leaned down to kiss her. He was ready to make the move himself, but she surprised him by pulling him towards her lips. It lasted only a few moments, but was full and deep and it told them both everything that they needed to know. _

"_I love you."_

"_I love you too."_

"Did you hear that?"

Haar awoke with a jolt, shocked by the apprehension and slight fear in Rebecka's voice. She had on all her clothes except for her armor, but he was bare-chested and wore only his undershorts. He quickly began to dress, first putting on his clothes, and then grabbing his armor. They both put on each other's armor, lingering on the other's body, wanting to keep their hands on each other forever.

"No I didn't hear anything. What did it sound like?"

She opened her mouth to respond but at that moment the sound of thunder rolled toward them from the direction of the town. Normally this wouldn't have been a big deal except that there was not a cloud in sight. Haar whistled for Celica, but Rebecka grabbed his arm, and pulled him toward her.

"No time! Come on, Topaz can carry both of us!"

He grabbed his axe, and her bow and quiver, as she swung up onto the horse. Once he himself had mounted, she dug her heel into Topaz's sides, and they took off. On the way through the forest and to the small village, Haar slung her quiver to the strap on her back and the bow up alongside it. He hoped that they would get there soon, as the villagers had paid them to keep their town safe, and he did not wish to let them down. Or spoil the name of the Nox nobility for that matter.

They came hurtling out of the forest at breakneck speed, and approached the town gate. For a small backwater village, Haar thought that it seemed pretty nice, especially considering that it had a stone archway as the entrance. That was probably was attracted the bandits in the first place. As they rode under the sandstone edifice, Celica swooped overhead and roared, causing the rickety wooden buildings to shake. A bandit jumped out from a side street, and Haar beheaded him in one fell swoop of his axe. He hoped that things would pick up because if he had to ride on this jostling horse any longer he might cry and then puke. Riding a wyvern was so much more graceful, and he could only imagine what riding a pegasus must be like. But then they reached the town center and all whimsical thought vanished.

About twenty brigands were clustered around something in the town square, and as the two watched, perched upon a paused Topaz, a lightning bolt rained down from the sky and hit one of the bandits. Haar nimbly jumped down off the horse and ran toward the group, aiming to help the mage and any other companions that she may have. Two bandits turned away from the mob, stepping over the body of their charred cohort and engaged Haar. Their axes clashed, and spinning his wrist, Haar disarmed one of them and flung the axe across the square while hitting the bandit with the blunt of his axe. A feathered arrow flew and hit the armed brigand in the eye, while the ex-soldier disemboweled the other one.

Hearing hoof beats coming up from behind him, Haar rolled away to side, avoiding being trampled by Topaz. He looked up to see Rebecka firing her bow, feathering two more of ruffians in the neck before breaking upon the horde like a wave upon the shore. She unslung another arrow and stabbed a bandit in the face while Topaz kicked down a leering bandit with a sword. Through her bravery, which one would never expect if you met her under other circumstances, she had cut through the host of bandits and three blurs flew from their entrapment.

Zihark, Mia, and Ilyana stood facing Haar until Ilyana promptly collapsed, her lavender eyes rolling up in their sockets. Zihark and Mia growled, their green eyes flashing in unison, and they rushed back to rain death upon their enemies. Seeing that Rebecka was busy, Haar dropped to his knee and inspected Ilyana. She had a cut along her midsection, and although it was shallow and not particularly deadly, she was bleeding profusely. He whipped a vulnerary out from his pocket, and rolling up her shirt, applied the salve directly to her wound, knowing it would heal faster that way. However, this wouldn't be enough, and he called out.

"Rebecka!"

She heard his name and came cantering over, sweat and blood dripping off her face, and stopped abruptly. Haar lifted Ilyana up and handed her to the orange haired noble, who grabbed her tightly.

"Take her back to the castle and make sure she gets healed up."

She shook her head, and despite being out of breath she said, "There's not enough time. In the church at this village I saw priest with a healing staff looking out a window. I'll go there." Without waiting for a response she turned around and headed toward the front of the town. Not bothering to marvel at her skills in observation, Haar rushed back to join Zihark and Mia. They had taken down another three bandits, but at least ten more still stood, and with more room to maneuver, the bandits now had the advantage.

Zihark and Mia had been pushed up against a wall and were clearly on the defensive, but Haar was still bewildered by their grace. Their blades danced together, weaving in and out in sync and in perfect harmony, parrying and blocking and striking their enemies in some sort of perfect ritual. Zihark's sword (at least he thought it was his sword) sliced down a brigand while the other sword took down another, and the two steel ballerinas continued their dance. The marauders had completely forgotten about Haar, and he simply walked up behind them and in one huge swoop, cut three of the brutes across their spines. Zihark and Mia burst out of the hole he had made, and with each going to a different side, cut down another two. Haar swung the axe and beheaded another brigand while Mia stabbed another in his bulging stomach. The last remaining bandit fled from them but Zihark readied his sword and threw at the retreating figure, catching the man in the neck. He fell down with a gurgle and was silent.

"Nice throw Zihark!" Mia shrieked and held her bloodied glove up for a high five. Zihark grudgingly gave her one and then went to retrieve his sword from the crook's neck. Meanwhile Mia was wiping her blade on a dead man's shirt. A flash of color caught Haar's eye, and he saw a brick red wyvern with a rider encased in gold armor take off from a cliff that looked over the small town. However he paid it no mind, and he turned back to Mia and Zihark, who had returned from retrieving his sword.

"You guys fought well today. Incredibly well. So how would you like to work for the Nox nobility?"

* * *

><p>One step in front of the other. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right leg buckle and fall down like a fool in front of the Queen of Daein. And almost hit your head on the brick fireplace.<p>

Pelleas lay in a heap on the stone floor of the east wing sitting room in Daein Keep. He was learning to walk again, at least re-teaching his legs to do so. After he was attacked by the bandit in the marketplace, he had blacked out from the pain. When he awoke nearly six days later, he was lightly informed by one of the healers that he had been struck in the spinal cord and was lucky to not be paralyzed. The idiot had forgotten to inform him that he would have to relearn how to walk.

And now as he tried to rise to the occasion and conquer his disability, Micaiah sat on a couch laughing like a madwoman, the book in her hand falling to the floor, and tears streaming down her face.

"Oh goodness Pelleas…hehe…I am so sorry it's just so…haha…you're just so…helpless." A final snicker escaped her before she quieted. On any normal occasion he would've been offended and likely walked out of the room. A few months ago he likely would've apologized. But he knew that Micaiah needed the humor, and comic relief. Her ruling had essentially become hell for her.

The citizenry, (and nobility) of Daein were not reacting well to the Maiden of Dawn's late rulings. At every turn she was hounded by people in the streets demanding lower taxes and the expulsion of bandits, and nobles demanding money and men and power. And Micaiah was not cut out for it. He saw the bags under her eyes from countless sleepless nights. The most infuriating thing was that Sothe was doing nothing about it.

There were rumors (for rumors were all that he had; he had been cast out of the inner circle in the courts and Micaiah refused to talk about her marriage no matter how deep he pried) that late at night the maids and manservants could hear the two fighting and arguing all the way across the wing. Pelleas knew that they loved each other, which was one of the things that infuriated him, but he felt that maybe their love for each other was not the best thing for either of them.

"Pelleas." Micaiah said, her laughing fit over. He looked up at her, curious as to what she had to say. "I'm glad you're here."

"Yes I suppose it is nice to have a good laugh now and then at this absurdity." He gestured to himself sprawled out on the floor.

A pained smile crossed her face, and she hung her head in shame. "I'm sorry Pelleas, I hadn't meant to hurt your feelings."

Her words melted his heart, and softened his previously angry features. And like usual as of late, he was regretting what he said. Ever since he had woken up after the attack from the bandit, he had been cranky, angry, and frustrated. Not to mention he had been lashing out at everyone, including Micaiah, about any possible inconvenience. Which he shouldn't do, especially toward Micaiah. She had been there when he awoke, and had been there at his side every day before he awoke, despite the fact that she had just gotten married. She was there by his side when he awoke. And he could still remember it.

_Consciousness rushed through him like a wave crashing unto the shore. Yet it was still dark. He could smell: sterility, expensive cloth, magic in the air. He could hear: his own breathing, his own heart, his own thoughts. But he could hear something else. Another's heartbeat, pounding furiously, frightened, and chaotically. _

_Pelleas opened his eyes with a start, and there, right next to his bead, was Micaiah. Sleeping peacefully, although her heart beat like she was laying on her deathbed like he probably was. He was in a white-walled room, in a small, yet comfortable, bed. Nothing adorned the walls, nor were there any windows so he concluded he was in the chambers of the palace hospital. He tried to sit up, to wake up Micaiah, but he could not seem to move his body at all, and accounted it to being in bed since…well he couldn't remember. The last thing he recalled was running to the marketplace, but as to why he didn't know. _

_Micaiah opened up her light brown eyes, and looked at Pelleas. It was hard to tell if he was awake or not, as he wasn't moving at all, but at that moment he turned to look at her with his large dark blue eyes. Her heart nearly stopped, but as to why, she didn't know. _

"_You're awake. I couldn't tell that you had woken, you were so peaceful." She smiled, genuinely happy, but when she saw the worried look on his face, the smile dissipated from her face. "The healer said you were going to be okay Pelleas. There's no need to worry."_

"_I'm more worried about you Micaiah. Your…" he began to say, but was at a loss for words. He couldn't tell her that her heart was beating like she was in the heat of battle, he would sound crazy. "You seem to be very…tumultuous."_

"_Ha! You sound foolish Pelleas! This is what you get for being out cold for a week!"_

"_I've been asleep for a week!" _

"_Yeah. Are you surprised? I mean after what happened you're lucky to be alive."_

"_Wha-what happened?", he inquired although a lot of that day was already coming back to him. Like the lady appearing from nowhere and asking for his help, him looking over Nevassa from the cathedral plaza. And how Micaiah got married. He immediately went pale. _

"_Pelleas! Are you OK? Let me go get a healer, I'll be right back, stay there!" _

_Micaiah rushed out of the room, calling for help in the infirmary. As for her request to stay put, Pelleas thought that he could manage since he barely seemed to be able to move a muscle anyways. But what he wouldn't be able to handle was Micaiah being married, especially being married to someone else. He wouldn't care if she was married to him, in fact he thought he would probably faint with joy._

Then the healer had entered the room and informed him of his situation and how it had happened, and that he shouldn't be off fighting bandits all alone. And then afterwards, a grueling month's worth of learning how to use his fine motor skills again. Which apparently included walking, not to mention running and skipping. Not like he had skipped a lot before his "injury". At least his magic hadn't been affected whatsoever, and for that he was glad; it was the one thing that got him through the long, boring days.

He looked up at Micaiah and smiled at her, trying to mask the sadness, the **depression**, which hung about him. "It's ok. We've all been cranky lately."

She smiled back at him, a positively radiant glow emanating from her face. "I'm glad Nolan was close by. I don't know what I would do without you."

Pelleas was so thunderstruck (and so excited) by her statement that he didn't hear Nolan pop in and make some snarky comment.

"Pelleas! Are you going to answer my question or not?", the bearded man inquired, shaking his head full of sepia brown locks. As a muttered afterthought he added, "Hmph, maybe I shouldn't have saved you from that brute after all. Can't even be bothered to use your ears, and I know they weren't paralyzed!"

"Pardon?" Pelleas looked up, an expression of polite confusion on his face.

Micaiah giggled behind her hand, and then dug back into whatever book she was reading. It seemed to be a thick, old novel, and every time she turned the page a cloud of dust arose from the book and hovered in front of her face. By this point Pelleas had managed to get himself up into a sitting position, and was merely staring into the dwindling flames in the fireplace. Sothe walked into the room in a jaunty step.

"Come on bookworm, time to go to bed." Micaiah looked up at him, her face so full of love that Pelleas nearly died and had to therefore turn back to the fire. Sothe bent down and kissed her on the corner of her mouth, and proceeded to walk away slowly, his hand trailing out behind him. She jumped off the comfy chair in which she was situated and quickly scurried over to hold his hand, calling out behind her.

"Night Nolan! Night Pelleas!"

Nolan looked over at Pelleas and saw the mixed emotions of longing and jealousy directed at the retreating couple. He walked over to the boy (he still thought him a boy, even though he seemed to be going on eighteen, which he had been for the past year) and picked him up.

"Let's go kiddo, time for bed for you too," Nolan said, and when he still saw the same expression on his face he added, "Forget it. They're happy and you don't want to ruin that."

"Come O Great Wise Savior, onwards to my chambers!" At this Nolan chuckled and the odd pair ascended the stairs and toward Pelleas' room. Pelleas didn't see that the book Micaiah was reading was on spirit charmers and the nature of magic. Or that she had finished the entire book and found out all that she needed to know.

* * *

><p>Moonlight drenched the long, wide corridor along the side of Felirae Castle, and down the hallway came a figure in pink. She ambled down the length, and took her time, seemingly lost in thought. Her gaudy outfit contrasted sharply with the blander look of the castle's decoration, a blast of pale pink against the darker blues and green. Her cloak sagged at the shoulders, and beneath lay a small red midriff. But the truly interesting thing lay beneath the woman's rose-colored hood. Beneath it dwelled a face of unparalleled beauty; she had hair the color of jet black midnight, the skin of the softest cloth, and the most lustrous red lips the world had ever seen. But her eyes held something the complete opposite, as the dark brown orbs held all the disgust, contempt, and anger the world had ever seen.<p>

Needless to say, Aimee was not happy. She had tried really, really hard to find a job as some sort of shopkeeper over the past month, yet it seemed that no one wanted any business. And her contacts for rare merchandise had vanished off the face of the continent, so she was at a loss. But now she had a job to say the least.

After stopping in every town throughout Daein, and Crimea, she had stumbled upon Felirae Castle, a splendid estate known for its apple orchards, its military might, and its extravagance. Not to mention its servants, who were considered better than even Queen Elincia's. Aimee scoffed. All the servants in Felirae were snooty, cliquey, and rich themselves. She should know, as she happened to be one of the serving staff, but was not as bad as the rest of those brats. And even if she was the least liked maid in the castle, at least she had her beauty which surpassed everyone else's in the manor.

And to speak of the Devil, here came the three meanest (and ugliest) maids in the whole goddess forsaken castle. The three of them almost blocked the whole entire hallway and looking at their faces made Aimee cringe. Dorothy walked on the outside of the trio, closest to the windows that spanned the whole length of the castle. Her plump body contained endless rolls that could be seen even through her loose dress, and her freckled face could not hide the piggish eyes that crept out from underneath her bland, dry brown locks. In the center sauntered Sofia, a sallow, thin excuse of a woman, her bones popping and cracking with every move the she made. The sad thing was that Sofia was only five years Aimee's senior yet her hair was already gray. Finally, the last woman on the left was Wendy, a cruel, muscular woman whose hot pink hair belayed her true personality. All three were ugly as sin, at least in Aimee's opinion.

"Hey! Amina! You should be at work right now in the Lord's chambers." The fat one, Dorothy, shrieked with laughter and skinny Sofia chimed in as well.

"Yes. I heard you have been working a lot lately since the Lady has been out of town!" She batted her eyes and hoisted up her dress, baring her twiggy, pale legs. Laughing, the other two mimicked their leader, and soon Aimee was bright red.

"My name is Aimee," she said trying to keep her cool, as they had seniority and were looked upon in high favor by the Lord and Lady. She was just a new girl who got a job because of her beauty. "And being beautiful does not make me a slut. Something you girls wouldn't know nor understand!"

"Yeah, because we don't spread our legs wide at every opportunity like you! Ain't no skanks over here sugar." For once the usually silent (but still cruel) Wendy had spoken, and her comment hurt most of all. Once again Aimee tried to prevent herself from lashing back out at them, as she would probably get a beating in the servants' quarters, but her pride did not allow her to back down.

"At least I don't look like a man," she retorted back to Wendy, who gasped in fury and surprise, which Aimee was pleased to note. Turning back to the other two, she said "and at least I can get a man, ladies. Have you even been bedded in your long years?"

Aimee grinned at their shocked faces, which currently looked like fish trying to gasp for air. With a flippant wave, she pushed past them and headed to Lord Felirae's chambers. As she turned the corner she called out.

"Good night Dora, Sophie, and of course, Wendell. Maybe you gals will get lucky tonight!"

Before she was out of earshot she thought she heard one of the women say 'that's not my name', but she couldn't be sure who it was. It sounded like the fat cow Dorothy but it could have been anyone. Dropping her hood and shaking her head, Aimee turned two more corners and arrived at the stairs that would take her to her employer's chambers. The guard standing in front of the stairs looked at her suspiciously, as if he thought her could trick her into thinking that he had forgotten her face. Like anyone could. She sighed and rolled her eyes, then pulled down the collar of her shirt, revealing some cleavage. His eyes lighted up and he nodded, opening the door to the spiral stair well and letting her through.

As she ascended the steps, she softly groaned, wishing that men would notice her for more than just her body. Granted she was glad for the attention and was happy that men became infatuated with her goddess-like beauty but she wished that some guy would just like her for who she was on the inside. It didn't occur to her that the way she acted prevented anybody from seeing what her personality was like, much less actually liking it. Since she was so engrossed in her own self-pity, she did not hear the muffled scream that resonated in the passageway around her.

When she reached the top of the staircase, Aimee stopped short, sure that she had heard some gruesome noise. It reminded her of something she had seen a few weeks ago, off on the side of some Daein road.

_Another gurgling noise reached her ears, and the woman in the pink cloak squirmed again. For the past minute, she had been hearing a demonic gurgling noise from somewhere along the road, but so far she had not been able to locate it and tell it to be quiet. At that point, a rasping sound came from her right and Aimee immediately glanced over there, intent on finding her target. What she saw sickened her. _

_An old man lay in a ditch off the side of the road, his throat cut by something. It was this injury that was making the noise, and she could that the grandpa was still trying to use his lungs despite all the blood. Steeling herself, Aimee rushed over to him and dumped some elixir fluid on his wound, but she saw right away that she was too late. The elixir had only caused some of the blood to clot, but the rest of the gash was still bleeding. She began to weep as she realized the man would not make it and had to turn away as he died. _

Shuddering from the horrid memory, Aimee rushed to her master's chamber, throwing the door wide open and running into somebody quite unexpected. A man stood in there, and the first thing she noticed was not the blood dripping from his knife but how hot he was.

He wore a light blue traveling cloak, and his tunic and pants were both a darker blue with a touch of purple. A grey scarf was wrapped around his neck, and when he saw Aimee, he immediately pushed it up to obscure his face. His sandy-blonde hair was supposed to be slicked back but in his urgency and distress, some strands lay in his face. In one hand he held a bloody dagger with an ornate white handle but another shorter throwing knife hung in a small scabbard on his left side.

Once she was done gazing at the handsome stranger, Aimee looked around and staggered backwards. Lord Felirae lay in the middle of the wooden floor, blood seeping from stab wounds in his heart and stomach. From what she could see he had died quickly and painlessly, as the look on his face suggested a gasp of surprise instead of a grimace of pain. However his wife, the Lady Tessa, still seemed to be alive. Her wounds mimicked the elderly man's injuries from three weeks ago, and like him, she was still trying to hang onto life. The struggles for breath were obviously becoming harder and harder for her, and she tried to get up and only succeeded in falling back down. Shockingly though, the room was not covered in blood and the red liquid was only present on the floor and in one spatter pattern on the window.

Aimee once again looked at the man and expected him to fling his knife and kill her. However, he did no such thing and instead decided to walk toward her, cleaning his dagger on the bed sheets and sheathing it. When he was no more than five feet away from her, the former shopkeeper turned maid promptly fainted, falling face flat into the man's arms and chest.

The jostling caused her to regain consciousness, and Aimee realized that she was flung over somebody's shoulder. She expected to feel pain yet there was none, except for one strong shoulder jutting into her ribcage. Seeing a blue cape flap in front of her, she closed her eyes and then opened them again, as if hoping that this was all a bad dream and that if she woke up it would all go away. However this time she say three ugly maids staring at her with their fish mouths open again and sucking away: Dorothy, Sofia, and Wendy. She screamed at them to help her, but all they did was stand there with their blank faces and vacant stares. The pommel of the assassin's blade hit the back of her head near her neck, and for the second time, Aimee blacked out.

She would be glad to know that her three worst enemies would vouch for her innocence. But this did not matter right now, as the odd couple disappeared into the moonlit night.

* * *

><p><strong>I hope that you liked it! If you guys could comment on if I got my first battle scene (Nox guys vs. bandits) right I'd be very happy! And I am not sure if my dialogue is any good or not, so if perhaps somebody could leave some tips it would be great! And as a side note, this will probably be closer to the length of the chapters from now on. Probably a couple thousand words shorter though. Thanks for reading and I hope you stick with the story! Please review. (Sorry to be annoying and redundant.)<strong>


	3. Aftermath

**Author's Note: AHHH! Yes, I'm back and I am extremely sorry for the incredibly long hiatus. I believe I am somewhere near five or six or seven weeks late. 'gulp' But anyways, I promise that I will make it up to you guys! Chapter 4 is one half done, and I have the next seven chapters planned out, so there will be no more writer's block. Anyways, expect Chapter 4: The Kindling Catches out by Thursday, and Chapter 5: A New Direction out by Sunday. Chapter 6: Plans will be out either half a week or week from then. And now that school has slowed down, fall sports are over, the world series is over (Go Cards!), and my computer is finally fixed after being broken for four weeks, you will be seeing chapters more regularly, I promise!**

**Review Responses: Since there have been no more reviews, I have no responses... But as a side note, from now on anyone who reviews will responded to by PM, UNLESS I feel that you have brought up a point that could benefit everyone or you leave an anonymous review (I support anonymous reviews, I do it all the time so, it's cool if you drop me one). In that case I will leave my response in this section. So anyways, please read and I hope you enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Fire Emblem or Intelligent Systems.**

* * *

><p><em>Aftermath<em>

The cold was worse than anything. Worse than the fact that she was with some psycho killer, worse than the wind that kept blowing and messing up her hair, worse than her sore legs that wouldn't move. The cold set into her bones, gnawing away at them, and setting her tired muscles alight with freezing fire. She tripped over a rock buried in the snow and would've fell flat on her face if a strong arm had not grabbed her and saved her. Shaking with fury and humiliation, Aimee pushed the man away.

"Are you okay?"

It was the first thing he had said to her today, besides the ritualistic 'good morning' she had received when she awoke at the foot of the mountain. For the past three days this man, this killer, had drug her from the cozy Felirae into the bitter wild. First she had sweat under the heat of the summer Crimean sun, but now she wanted nothing more than to sweat again. It was summer! There wasn't supposed to be snow on the ground.

She turned to look at him and nodded, all the while fixing him with a glare capable to make most men babble, yet he simply stood ramrod straight, just staring at her. With a flip of her hand she waved him off and began to resume the hike. After fleeing from Castle Felirae, her kidnapper, the assassin, had fled south for two days straight and without pause except for a few hours at night. Her muscles had ached and her body had been pushed to their limits with her about to collapse with hunger, exhaustion, and distress. But last night they had stopped at the foot of the mountains and he had gone off to hunt, bringing back a rabbit pierced in the head by a knife. Her stomach had rumbled loudly and once the hare was cooked, Aimee had devoured the meat. She hadn't noticed how there was no food left for him, and how he never once complained.

And now to make her climb up some goddess forsaken mountain! It was preposterous! Although there was an obvious path and the journey up was not even that steep, the former shopkeeper still felt as though she was climbing a perfectly vertical wall. When she stopped to find her way around a boulder, the man quickly stepped past her, clambering over a pile of crumbly rocks. His light blue cape almost blended into the cloudless summer sky, and the sandy-blonde he had tried so hard to keep slicked back now hung in his face. Aimee thought it made him look cuter and not so cold and hard, but she quickly put it out of her mind. The man was a killer and it was stupid for her to be lusting after him. He continued on past her without a word, but she felt as if her lungs were about to split in half, and she called out.

"Hey! Can we…stop for a second?" she managed to say, her breath coming in quick gasps as she lay against the massive stone that impeded her path.

He nodded and came back over, leaning against the very same rock. Not liking the close proximity to her sworn enemy, Aimee walked away and sat down on patch of snowless grass nearby. She tried to not look at him, but he attracted her and she found herself once again running her eyes all over him. As if he could sense her roving eyes, he looking up at her and cleared his throat like he was preparing to make a speech.

"I'm sorry but what's your name? I haven't had the chance to ask you."

She glared at him, a little shocked, but responded anyways. Although she had a plethora of snippy comments to his inquiry, she kept it terse and simple.

"Aimee."

"Oh." An awkward silence followed, the previous tension somewhat dissipated by the man's obvious discomfort with social settings.

"What's your name?" Aimee inquired, all of a sudden incredibly curious as to whom her kidnapper was. She realized that she knew next to nothing about him.

"Loyd."

"Loyd." She tested the name out on her tongue, and found that she liked it; it had an odd sense of familiarity to it and reminded her of some long lost childhood memory that was still distant and hazy.

"Yeah. That's me. Come on let's go. I'd like to reach the summit today."

"Can we not rest a while longer?"

"No."

With the option of a longer break taken from her, Aimee reluctantly acquiesced and followed Loyd up the mountain. The path was rocky and the footing fragile, yet the scenery in of itself was beautiful. The trail wound through a sparse wooded area that frequently offered views of the mountainous terrain and the valleys bellow, painting a landscape full of stony facades and lush, green pastures. A piney smell issued from the trees and with every breath the lungs would be filled with thin, chilly air, turning your insides to a landscape of frost.

Aimee felt like she should be more worried, like she should be planning some way to escape or retaliate against her kidnapper but she instead found herself oddly complacent. As odd as it seemed, she felt that she was in no immediate danger even though her companion was a trained assassin. Plus she had nowhere to go. In the middle of the mountains there nothing but forests and rock to run to, and Aimee had no idea how neither to hunt nor build a shelter. She wouldn't expect to live out here on her own for more than a few days, and she suspected that Loyd knew it as well. He didn't seem to be ignorant at all, and she suspected that he might even be more clever than that cranky little staff officer of Ike's, albeit more subtle.

Which was something else entirely. He was no longer the assassin, or the killer, or her demented angel of death. Now that she knew his name, he had become Loyd in the blink of eye, which led her to think about just exactly what she had thought of him in the first place. Perhaps, deep down inside, she had really wanted him to take her and bear her away into a life of excitement and adventure. But on the surface she assured herself that she wanted nothing more than some makeup, a soft bed, and a comfortable lifestyle. It was silly of her to think otherwise!

Not to mention that even though this "trip" of hers (for it was nothing but a short trip, she refused to let herself think otherwise) might be physically and mentally exhausting, and daunting as well, she could still at least look at his gorgeous face. It was a little sick of her to be enamored with a killer, she could not help herself. And Ike had been a killer hadn't he? Maybe a killer with a nobler purpose and better morals but he was still a murderer when you got right down to it. Plus it wasn't like she was going to act on her feelings. Maybe if she saw another human being, she would be able to get over the hunk.

As if her prayers were being answered, the pair came upon a dirty grey hovel situated atop a slight hill. It was thrust up against a rock face, and although the area around was generally devoid of trees, one only had to walk a hundred feet to be among the mountains pines once again. A small garden full of shriveled, sickly-looking vegetables surrounded one side of the hut and its owner was on the other side nearby a tub with a knife. He was an old man, seemingly stick thin and on death's door, yet when he moved he was spry enough to be at least half his age. His incredibly tan skin clashed with his snow white hair, with its tight curls piled high atop his head. White marks were thrown across his face, and they bore the resemblance of stripes. Without missing a beat, he looked up at his visitors and dropped his knife, which at a closer inspection resembled something more like a small scythe.

"Hey fellas! You just wait outside a moment and I'll bring out the stew. No harm in a lonely old man sharing his food with strangers right?"

At this he turned and entered the house, a strong, snow-white tail sticking out from a hole in his pants. Aimee saw Loyd shake his head and mutter "Crazy old cat", but he sat down on a nearby stump anyways. Aimee quickly followed suit, sitting close by but still far enough away from him to remain comfortable and out of reach.

"Are we going to stay here?" she asked, although the answer was pretty self-evident. "Can we trust this guy?"

"Do you want free food?" Loyd replied, shrugging. It was more of a stated fact than a question, so Aimee simply nodded and let it be. She couldn't lie; she was actually really curious as to how Loyd would react to the old guy. They hadn't run into any other human being since Felirae, and what he would do if the old man asked too many questions had piqued her interest. Which got her to wondering why exactly she was still alive. She obviously knew too much, so as to why Loyd hadn't killed her yet was intriguing. She was about to ask him why when the tomcat came out the door.

Two bowls were resting on the palms of his hands and the third he had gripped in his teeth. He smiled through the dish at his two visitors and handed them their lunch. From the golden broth came the aroma of cooked meat and piney mountain spices, along with looked like a few soggy pieces of either broccoli or peas. Two months ago Aimee would've wrinkled up her nose and pushed the platter away, but after living on the road for a while, both before and after Felirae, she realized the allure of food and proceeded to wolf down the stew.

The aged fellow guffawed and slapped his knee, painfully in the woman's opinion.

"Bwahaha! Where you two from? Your lady looks like she could eat the whole mountain good sir!", at this he winked at Loyd and continued in a lower, more conspiratorial voice. "She must have quite the appetite huh?"

Blank blue eyes met mischievous green ones until Loyd finally understood what the cat was saying and blushed, agreeing with him sheepishly. Aimee suppressed a snicker and shoveled in more soggy vegetables in order to not burst out laughing. The man was as naïve and innocent as a little boy, and even better, was shy when it came to women! The cold-blooded assassin that she was traveling with no longer seemed so threatening.

Seeing Loyd's reaction, the senior laughed again, this time tears streaming down his face.

"Yeah! Bwahaha! She's a looker! Even better than my old wife…bless her soul and curse mine for thinking of another woman." He sobered up, his face still holding joviality but his old eyes perpetually sad. "So what your names?"

Aimee was about to interject when Loyd glanced at her nonchalantly, at least on the surface. To the old man it probably looked like a husband who couldn't stop looking at his beautiful wife, but Aimee could see that it meant more. And the quick glance told her everything. He was to do all the talking, she was to be the obedient wife, or servant, or mistress, or goddess knew what else. She didn't like it but he was the one with the knives.

"I'm Loyd. And this is Aimee."

She was a little shocked that he gave out their real names and was afraid that he was going to kill the old guy after all. But she had little time to contemplate this as the old man leaped up and shook Loyd's hand, then proceeded to kiss hers, all the time staring at her bodice. His goggling was met with a kind but firm smile, and the horny cat backed off, not meeting her eye. Instead he focused his attention on Loyd.

"So, are y'all from Felirae?"

They both stiffened but Loyd seemed to salvage their reaction from being noticeable by quickly pulling Aimee closer to him.

"Yeah. We're traveling performers. I'm a knife thrower, my lady a fortune teller."

"So why'd ya leave so fast? I hear its nice there, and garn, I wot I'd not leave a nice bed and big money. I heard that the new nobles are some generous with their gold!" He had leaned forward with a gleam in his eye, and Aimee thought with a flash of fear that he was onto them. But she realized he was looking at her, and reckoned that her new profession as a fortune teller had increased her exotic allure.

"Well, to tell the truth, there was kind of an accident at the castle. With the lord and his lady."

Two pairs of eyes went wide, one of them green, the other a soft brown. Aimee bit on her cheek to stop her from yelling out at Loyd and asking him what in the name of Ashera (or Yune, she wasn't sure who she should curse for anymore) he was doing. And without thinking, she blurted something out.

"And we got out of there like that.", she said, snapping her fingers.

The cat looked between the two of them, his mouth moving up and down like he had forgotten how to talk.

"W-wh-wha happen'd?"

"Good sir, we're not so sure you could handle the news. It was, well, horrible, and your aging heart might not be able to take it." Loyd's voice had taken on a cool, silky, confident tone, which Aimee realized mimicked her own from a few seconds ago. The old-timer puffed up his chest with pride.

"Ha! My heart t'a lot better than its looks! I've been around for a good four hundred years, and while that ain't much 'pared to the dragons, boy I still got a few decades!"

"Ok. Good. Well the lord and his lady got murdered. Assassinated is more like it. I…it was horrible. I may play with knifes good sir, but I got no stomach for violence, whether it's from my hand or another's." He gulped, and hung his head as if he was ashamed of his lie. The cat leaned forward and clapped on the shoulder.

"It's ok boy. We ain't all fighters, goddess know I never could. But why'd you run?"

Loyd looked up, and Aimee was shocked by how painfully sad his face was. She thought that he was quite possibly the best actor (or liar, depending on how you looked at it) she had ever seen.

"I…well sir I'm a knife thrower. The lord and lady got murdered by a man with knives; the poor maid who came out and told us said she saw the assassin with blood dripping from his knife! And she was so distraught that she wouldn't have remembered that I didn't do it. And Aimee here had read the Lady Tessa's fortune the other day, and she had said that dark days lay ahead of her. The whole castle was talking about that one! They would have incriminated us right away!" He let loose a small cry, more like a whimper than a wail, and buried his face in his hands. Aimee rubbed his back and continued, allowing a single tear to fall down her cheek.

"We packed up our stuff, which wasn't a lot, and headed south. We left the day's pay there though, just as compensation for all their hospitality and kindness. Daein wasn't an option, we would never going to that evil country, so we were planning on cutting through the mountains and going to western Crimea, or Serenes, or Begnion. I…we didn't want to leave, but we had no choice."

The cat leapt up from his seat on the ground and sat next to Aimee, putting his arm around her shoulders.

"There, it will be okay. They all got bigger things to worry 'bout than if some performers did it! Y'all are so nice, they'd a never 'spected it was you. I would say you're welcome in Gallia but I ain't been there in years. Come on finish your stew, you got a long journey 'head of you."

Both Aimee and Loyd finished up their lunch, eating painfully slow as if they were in pain or mourning, even though they were starving. The old man left them for a minute and came back with some meat wrapped in spice leaves and gave it to them. When they protested, he said that it was the least he could do, and proceeded to stick it in their bags. They drained their bowls and handed the dishes to the man, who set them down next to a small well.

Loyd stood up and stretched, and Aimee followed suit. "We should probably be going on our way, we want to reach the summit by nightfall."

The cat nodded, and shook his hand. But when he went to shake Aimee's, she clutched at it and stared at the lines on his palms intensely. At first he was scared and tried to pull away until he realized what she was doing, and then his eyes lit up with glee. She stayed that way for a minute and then looked up into the old man's wrinkled face.

"You were right. You have many years left ahead of you, more than just a few decades. Your ending days will be filled with happiness and peace, and all the wrongs in your life will resolve themselves. You will die a happy, content man sir."

She smiled at him, and he grinned back, tears shining at the corners of his eyes.

"Ah. Child you'll have a long, happy life, and yo' man too. And I don't need be a fortune teller t'know that, y'all so nice and pure and innocent." With tears now rolling down his face, he turned around hastily and headed back up to his lonely hut, leaving the two of them alone. They turned and walked back into the forest, quiet for a few minutes. Loyd opened and shut his mouth a few times until Aimee interjected.

"Well?"

He smiled. "You did really well. I'm impressed."

"I'm impressed too, you're a fantastic liar."

"I prefer to think of it as acting."

Aimee was shocked as a genuine smile crossed her face and before she could stop herself, she blurted out the question she had been dying to ask all day. "Why didn't you just kill him? Why haven't you just killed ME? It would be easier. For you."

She was appalled to see him look hurt, his eyes wincing and his eyebrows furrowed.

"Do I seem like a man who kills for no reason, who kills just to kill?"

"I don't know you very well, but considering your recent activity, I would have to say yes."

She expected him to grow angry, to unsheathe his knife and run her through, but instead he just looked away.

"No. I am not a man who kills to kill, who kills for fun. I was employed to kill Lord and Lady Felirae because they were a danger to Crimea. My employer said they were plotting against the queen. We are going to see him now. I took you because you saw too much, but I would never kill you."

"Why? Why not just leave me for dead in the castle? I didn't remember anything about you until the next morning when I saw you when I woke up! Was it because I'm pretty? Was that why? You thought you might take me and then rape me because I saw you murder and make me be your slave girl? Why? Why drag me with you across Crimea while you go around from one job to the next?"

Loyd winced again, and Aimee thought she saw a tear roll down his face, but she was too angry to know for sure. She had all these emotions buried inside, buried from when she was a child, and she wanted them out. All the anger, the loneliness, the sadness. All of it from being abandoned, abused, left for dead. Nobody knew her pain, and now this killer was dragging her across the continent from one bloody killing to the next! She screamed in rage and fury, and began to kick and hit him. He grabbed her and held her tight until she stopped all the screaming, the crying, the hitting. Keeping a hold on her shoulders, he turned around and looked into her tear stained face, into the beautiful but sad, oh so sad, soft brown eyes.

"I wouldn't kill you because I hate killing, I hate violence. I wasn't lying about that earlier. I only kill for money because it's the only thing I know how to do. It's what I was trained for."

* * *

><p>It was dark, and eerie, beneath the deserts in the tunnels of the Branded. Soren hated it, and he for the first time realized how much he truly loved the fresh, clean air of expansive plains and deep forests. Beneath the ground, it always felt as if the earth was closing in on you, the dirt walls crumbling with every step, the cobbled tunnel floors ready to give way any minute. Even in the Great Hall, a cavernous space filled with stalagmites and stalactites, stressed him out, despite that the ceiling was so high you could barely see in the subterranean gloom. But he would rather be there right now as opposed to where he currently was.<p>

He stood in the pitch black dark, blind as a bat, with Elle, Stefan, and Hesper beside him. The other day Soren had asked Stefan how they found food to eat. He had not been eating dinner with the rest of the colony, preferring instead to eat the remaining rations in his pack in the lonely confines of his room. He had been told that they had a garden where they grew plants, and which Soren presumed were some kind of gross, edible mushroom, and that they hunted. Stefan had then invited Soren to join him in a small hunting party the next day, and he had gladly agreed, eager to do something other than brood over Hesper's odd threat, or command, or whatever the hell the grease ball had been trying to convey.

But he had not expected this. Hoping to tramp through the small mountain ranges in the Grann, hunting down some sort of hardy mountain deer, Soren had prepared himself for the fresh, yet bitingly dry, desert air. Instead, after meeting in the Great Hall, Stefan had led him down deeper and deeper into the ground through a series of intersecting tunnels, which proceeded to get smaller and smaller. And now here they were, in some dark, narrow, smelly tunnel, which apparently was supposed to hold edible animal life. The only thing that Soren thought could live down here were giant worms, maybe blind bats, and goddess knew what else. He shuddered.

"What exactly are we looking for? Can things even live down here?" Soren asked.

"Ha! Ignorant little topside dweller! You should be afraid of the dark little mage boy. Evil, big, dangerous things live down here. Run away…before they find you!" Elle was sneering, her yellow cat eyes glinting mischievously in the dark. In fact it was the only thing Soren could see, and he was glad no one else could see his blanched, sickly looking face in the black. He had discovered a new fear; dark tunnels snaking underneath the ground, holding all kinds of evil creatures…

"Elle! That's enough! Calm yourself!" Stefan's voice rang out reprimanding, echoing through the tunnels, and Soren thought he heard Hesper quietly chuckle. A rustle issued forth from the shaft ahead, and both Soren and Hesper shrank back. "Great! Now you've scared away the game!"

"That wasn't my fault! You were the one who screamed!"

"And you were the one who tested my patience!", Stefan snarled, sparks leaping from his eyes. "I've had enough of you! We are splitting up, and you're going with Soren."

Elle gasped, although out of fear, surprise, or anger was impossible to tell.

"He's just going to kill me here in the dark! The kid's a psychopath! Do you want me to die? Why are you doing this?"

Stefan sighed, rolling his eyes, although by the tension in his voice Soren could tell he was still angry.

"As of right now I do wish you would die, so I can get some peace and quiet! And I hope he doesn't kill you, considering he can't see anything and you have almost perfect night vision my little pussycat."

"Hmph. You still haven't answered my question."

"Fine then. First, you're going with him because I don't want to have to listen to you. Secondly, because Hesper and Soren don't know their way around here, so each should go with someone more experienced. And third, so you two can talk and work out your issues! I can't have my people fighting and angry with each other! I expect you two to be the best of friends after we are done here."

Elle didn't respond, just remained quiet. Soren repeated his previous question, asking what exactly he was supposed to be looking for.

"It's nothing to worry about. We are really just looking for giant moles. They make the tunnels around here."

"That's it? That's really all that lives down here?" Soren queried, hoping that the answer was yes. Stefan glanced over at Elle, who merely shrugged nonchalantly.

"Uh no. More things live down here. We've seen foxes before, but they aren't really a threat. Plus it's daytime, so they'll be up above in the desert. There are massive worms too. Or snakes. I'm not sure what they are."

"What makes something massive?"

Stefan gulped. "They are as big as the tunnels themselves."

A quiet silence followed, everyone contemplating the sheer size of such a creature. Soren was a little worried, but he felt that none of those animals were a legitimate threat. They were still as dumb as their brethren up in the world above, only bigger. A smile flashed out in the dark, and Stefan clapped his hands. The gesture needed no following instruction; the two pairs moved out, Soren finding Elle's glowing eyes and stopping in front of them. He grabbed his tome with his other hand; he was ready to go, but apparently Elle was not.

"Are you not gonna tell him about the amuka uren'not?" Elle shouted out to Stefan, who didn't bother to turn around.

"They're not important. We wouldn't want to scare both him and Hesper."

"And if we run into one? They will both freeze, and then they're as good as dead."

Stefan finally turned around, his grass-green eyes glowing slightly with worry, but his voice was confident and assured.

"They are not in this area anymore. I've received information that they have moved off again. We have nothing to worry about."

She shrugged and started to walk away, motioning for Soren to follow her. Stefan and Hesper did the same, and soon Soren was alone with Elle. They walked through the dark tunnels awhile, not talking and listening for game. They had quickly found out that Soren had no vision in the dark, so he was now holding onto a small rope (leash) that was attached to her belt. He had never been hunting before, but Soren was sure that it couldn't be that hard, especially considering that once they found their giant mole, it would have nowhere to run off to. He was only wary about one thing: the amuka uren'not.

"The amuka uren'not?" Soren posed the name as a question, hoping that Elle's hatred of him would cause her to go into a rant about the creatures. But she only shrugged.

"They're dangerous."

Soren opened his mouth and then closed it. He had gotten the fact that they were dangerous from their name. "Do you know what the name means?"

She nodded, even though he couldn't see it. "It's the only phrase of the ancient language that I know. The name sounds better in the ancient language than in common tongue. It describes them better."

Soren had to agree. Amuka uren'not had a menacing appeal to it, the words rolling off the tongue with a heavy thud. It reminded him of an ancient, dangerous entity, stalking its prey in the dark. Which he guessed was probably pretty close to the truth.

"Tunnel demons." He said in a musing manner, hoping that Elle would fill in the gaps.

"Yes. An apt name." She remained quiet for a while, and then sighed frustratingly. "Fine then! I'll tell you all about them!"

Soren muttered a quiet thank you, and she turned to look at him surprisingly, her eyebrow arched. But she faced forward again without saying a word about it, and began her lecture on the amuka uren'not.

"They were here when I got to the colony. They…they are not human, neither Beorc nor Laguz, but they more than simple animals too. They live down here, in the real tunnels of the desert. The ones that we live are man-made, connecting cave to cave. But the tunnels down here, well they aren't man made, but they aren't natural either. The moles build them, as do the worm-snakes, and this is where the amuka uren'not reign.

"They don't come to the colony for some unknown reason. Some people say that they fear the light…but I think they fear something else. I don't know what it is but…what's important is that they don't hunt us up there and kill us all. I…I have seen one only once, and I try to block it out but it doesn't work." She shuddered. "I have nightmares every night."

"Maybe they're territorial."

"What? What are you talking about?"

Soren was still hung up over why these tunnel demons didn't come up to the colony and wreak havoc. Stefan and Elle only seemed to worry about them when hunting so he thought that they only attacked to keep their territory. It was an interesting thought, and if Elle was right about them being sentient, or at least smarter than the average animal, then maybe…

"Uh hello? You haven't answered my question!" Elle was beginning to get the same girly, grating tone she had when Soren first met her. But maybe that was a good sign. Maybe she was beginning to forgive him for the attempted murder.

"Never mind. It's not important. Hey, have…"

"Shhh!" She looked back at him, her eyes aglow with some feverish light. "Do you hear that? Or smell it?"

He shook his head, but he had an idea of what she was talking about.

"There's something right around the corner. It sounds like a mole!" She winked at him, and continued. "You go left and flank it from behind. I'll catch it from the front!"

She began to trot off, but he held onto his rope (leash) and tugged her back. Glaring, she turned around and began to mouth obscenities at him while trying to untie the rope around her belt.

"How am I supposed to see?" he whispered, careful to keep his voice as quiet as possible.

"Use magic." She shrugged and managed to free herself of the rope, darting off into the dark. He dropped the rope and sighed. She was becoming a pain again. There were no fire spells in his wind tome obviously, so he had no way to light his way. Unless…he tried to remember the spell his teacher in Gallia had beat into him. He had memorized the ancient language, and was fluent in it, but to find the right words to enact magic was hard. Magic wasn't all words, but mages and sages could only harness the power of nature through certain phrases. Once you had the essence of the element, you could manipulate it through your mind. Which was why magic users carried around tomes. The words were already written down, and you didn't have to search through your memory banks to find the right ones. The books had no real power themselves; they were just there for ease. Suddenly he happened upon the right strew of words and uttered them, focusing on the image of a small, bright flame hovering in his hand.

"Niabnok usten ouhsnen."

The air around Soren grew colder and thinner, while the area above his hand began to get hot. With a sudden inrush of heat, a small, bright flame blinked into existence right above his hand, following his palm wherever he put it. For the first time, he got a good look at his surroundings. As he suspected, the whole tunnel was composed of dirt, but the sides and ceiling were much more compact than he had thought. Small rocks were strewn everywhere, as well as a plethora of small bones. Soren hoped that they were just of the foxes Stefan had talked about and not of anything else. He almost wished that he had no light, as the area around him was extremely foreboding.

A loud squeal echoed from around the corner along with a good deal of scuttling. Soren let loose a little gasp, and began to run toward the source, completely forgetting that he was supposed to be flanking the creature. But when he rounded the corner, he did not see the backside of a giant brown mole as he had expected, nor did he see Elle valiantly fighting it.

She lay upon the ground, her breathing coming out in ragged gasps. A large gash ran down her side all the way the middle of her thigh, and the ground beneath her was turning muddy with blood. Even worse, she had some sort of bite on her right arm, which was quickly turning the skin around it a sickly pale yellow color. Her axe was shattered in pieces and scattered across the ground nearby. This was all bad, but the thing crouched on top of her was worse.

Soren was looking at its backside, and for that he was glad. He didn't want to have to see the creature's face. It had smooth, pale yellow skin, and from what Soren could tell, no hair. It's body rippled with muscles, and its arms were oddly disproportionate and long, the fingers morphed into some sort of long bony claw. The feet only had three toes, each ending in a claw, and its back had a number of spiny protrusions. It was humanoid for sure, having two arms and two legs, although it looked like it used the arms as legs too. It was a boy, as Soren could see that this monster had the same sex organs as humans. Then it turned around, and looking past the elven ears, and the gargoyle face, all one could see were the lavender eyes.

He took a step, hypnotized by the creature's eyes. They seemed, above all else, intelligent and Soren felt like it was sizing him up. The eyes had him, pulling him deep into a calm, peaceful dream, slowing his mind, his body, his everything. He was underwater, sinking slowly to a painful death but he was okay with it, actually he _wanted_it to happen. Only a groan from Elle shook him out of his reverie.

The demon had crept up on him while he was fading, so he had to take another step back. It seemed wary still, so Soren used the opportunity to pull out his tome and flip to a random page. When he looked back up, the creature seemed perplexed and almost curious, staring intently at his spell book. It had paused, Elle's blood dripping from its claws and mouth. Soren filed away his observation for later, and began to utter his incantation.

"Ottak otusawam iraki atana odeerub agezak iosi."

He focused on green swords cutting up the creature in front of him. A loud groan began to echo from behind him, and in a sudden burst, wind rushed past him causing his hair and robes to fly every which way. In front of his eyes, the wind whistled toward the monster, turning to sharp green blades and hitting the creature from the front. They cut through it, and whipped around its feet, causing deep gashes to appear across its body, red blood flying with the breeze. The furious wind ceased, and the monster promptly fell down dead, cuts and scrapes lining the body. Soren ran past the dead devil, staring at its head as he did. It had two small horns next to its ears.

He crouched down next to Elle, and cradled her head in his arms. Her bitten arm had almost turned completely pale yellow, and the sickly color was moving its way down the rest of her body as well. He fished around in his robe and pulled out a vulnerary, uncorking the top. He hoisted her up into a sitting position and moved the vile liquid to her mouth. Despite her heavy breathing and obvious pain, Elle still managed to make a face at taking the medicine. Soren smiled a little and poured the potion down her throat. Her eyes widened and he was glad to see that the bleeding was beginning to abate a little. But the wounds were still deadly, and the yellow coloring had not stopped or cleared whatsoever.

He leaned down close and asked her "What was that?"

She blanched and began to sweat and shake as if the very mention of the creature caused her pain. Shaking her head she whispered two words and passed out.

"Amuka uren'not."

He had guessed as much. Picking her up, which was no easy task considering he was a weak little sage and she a thick, strong warrior, Soren began to walk away from the gruesome scene. After two minutes of taking random turns, he realized that he had no idea where he was going. This wasn't going to work. She didn't have much time and he didn't have the strength to carry her for very long. He set her down and lightly slapped her until she woke up again.

"How do we get out of here?"

All he got was a groan for an answer, and he sighed. She kept on moaning though and Soren realized she was motioning toward a small lump in her pocket. He reached in and pulled out a tiny, pale pink object. It was a small bottle with a fusion of olivi grass in it and half empty.

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

She opened her eyes for a second, locking her yellow-green ones with his red ones. He noticed that the glow had gone out of her eyes but he paid it no mind as she was apparently struggling to say something important.

"Ju…just d…drink it!" A clearing of the throat. "It w…will help. Pr…promise."

Then he remembered her downing something in the same small pink bottle earlier, before they went into the darker tunnels. Only after then did he notice that her eyes glowed in the dark, something he had never remembered seeing before. She saw that he understood and nodded, closing her eyes and drifting off again. Shrugging, he downed the drink.

Suddenly a rush of strength seeped into his bones and he actually felt his muscles growing larger. When he picked her up again, she seemed ten times lighter and no longer did he have to hunch over to carry her. A new sense of direction also seemed to be infused within him, and he knew exactly which turns to take.

Within ten minutes he found himself in the Great Hall with no idea how exactly he had gotten there. This innate sense of direction worked for sure, but he did not remember which way he had gone. But all of this was not important, as he had to find help for Elle. The hall was deserted, and with no idea as to where exactly he was going, Soren dashed off into a side corridor. He tried to think about where he was going, but every time he took a turn out of memory or analyzation, it felt wrong. So he just let his feet guide him.

Elle was rapidly getting worse. The blood had started to flow again, and his robes were drenched, not to mention the weird color had almost spread across her whole entire body. He stopped and looked around, shocked by the brightness of the "cave" he had just run into. The walls were still rock, but sunlight, **natural** sunlight, filtered in from somewhere up above. He looked up and saw that this room, which was just as large as the Great Hall, had no roof. And he was surrounded by plants. Good-looking plants, nice green ones that were healthy and not moldy mushrooms. So this was the garden.

A soft scream echoed across the room and Soren released a gasp as well. He quickly put down Elle and pulled out his tome. An amuka uren'not was running right toward him! But when the thing got closer, he put away his tome and blushed the deepest red in the world. The thing crouched down next to Elle, and began to lay its hands all over her.

He was looking at a woman. A branded woman if the faded mark on her forehead was correct. Her skin was a pale yellow color, and she had huge muscles all over her body. She had unnaturally long arms and fingers and the hair on her head was thin and sparse. Maybe once she had been beautiful but now…from the looks of things, it was quite simple. The amuka uren'not had gotten to her.

"What happened here?" She asked desperately, looking up at him with a mixture of fear and concern.

"We were attacked. There was only one but…it got her."

He was surprised at how cold and detached his voice sounded; it was the exact opposite of what he was feeling. He was distraught with worry.

"It will be okay. Maybe. I can heal her wounds but…we are out of anti-venom." She looked up and down at his clothing and then at the book hanging out of his pocket. "Are you a sage? Yes you are, I can tell. Quickly, come with me."

They hurried across the expansive garden and went into an even brighter sunlit room. This cavern was much smaller, and had a ceiling, but the walls were not rock. They were a sort of crystal and in certain places you could see out into the desert. The room was filled with pots and jars full of herbs and potions, not to mention a small rack of staves in one corner.

"This is above the desert?"

She looked at him sternly, and motioned for him to lay Elle down on the table. Immediately she stripped off most of Elle's clothes and began to wipe off the blood with a water soaked cloth. When all the blood was wiped off, the woman grabbed an orange paste and a handful of green herbs. She stuck the herbs in Elle's mouth but hesitated before using the paste. She had noticed the partially healed wound with small scabs dotted along the gash.

"Did you use a vulnerary or an elixir?"

"A vulnerary."

She nodded in assent, and began to rub the orange paste along the wound. It congealed extremely fast, and before Soren's eyes the bleeding stopped. The herbs had also completely dissolved on Elle's tongue. The woman looked at him.

"Can you use this?" She was holding out a stave that looked like a shepherd's hook with a forest green orb in the middle. Her hand was shaking a little, causing the staff to wobble back and forth. He gently grabbed her hand, stopping her shaking, and plucked the stave from her grasp with his other hand. Elle lay on the table, shaking fiercely, and Soren held the orb part of the staff right above her body. The orb began to glow a gentle, pulsing green, and a pool of light coalesced beneath Elle. The light rushed up through her body in a single, vibrant column, and promptly dissipated. Her skin had lost its yellow tint, although it was still dangerously pale, and she had stopped shaking.

"She will be okay. She may awake in a couple minutes."

The woman smiled at Soren and he smiled back. And thanked her. He was worn out, and the strength from the olivi grass seemed to be fading. Pulling up two nearby chairs, the woman offered him a seat near the window.

"So we are above the desert?" He asked his previous question again, and this time the lady didn't seem quite so annoyed by him.

"You're new aren't you? Yes, we are above the desert, in a small quartz formation. When we happened upon it, it was hollow, so now this place is the apothecary. It's the same with the garden over there. This is the way we found things, and this is how we use them. On the outside, you can't even see this room, and the garden walls look like a massive rock formation."

Soren remembered the big rock formation he and Elle had rested under and realized that they had been sitting right by the garden. He was curious about the garden, but he had another question to ask.

"So if we hadn't saved Elle, she probably would've looked something like you."

The woman winced at his bluntness, but nodded.

"Yes, probably worse actually. I look like this only after half a day with the venom in me. It would've taken a day to prepare the anti-venom, and by then she might have been lost. I don't know if you turn into an amuka uren'not, but I know that after the venom is in you, you begin to look like one."

Soren was then reminded of the intellectualism he saw in the creature's eyes and shuddered. Looking back, the thing had seemed so…human.

"Are they smart? I mean when I saw one of them, it seemed intelligent. Maybe even sentient."

She nodded. "Yes. They are really, really smart. As intelligent as us. And they speak the ancient language as well. They call themselves ichatomodok ihsi."

"The children of stone?"

She shrugged and looked out the window. "If you want to know more about them, then you should go talk to our wise woman. She…she's been around a long time, and knows quite a bit. Oh! The girl's awake. I'll leave you two now."

The woman got up and hustled out of the room, closing a crude wooden door behind her. Soren walked over to Elle and stood beside her. She lay there, her wound filled with paste, large, purple bags under her eyes, and pale, sickly skin stretched taut over muscle and bone. Weak. That was what she looked like.

But more importantly she was alive, and Soren was surprised that he was so glad about the fact. Before, he would've only worried about Ike's safety and could've cared less about anybody else, but now that was not the case. He guessed that maybe he wasn't the same person, that maybe his heart was permanently thawed, and that he was open for people. Ike still held his heart but maybe other people held it too, and he just didn't know it before. He felt a sudden urge to right his wrongs, to fix everything fractured and broken in his life.

"Hey."

"Hey. Thanks for what you did back there. You…didn't have to save me. It would've been easier to just turn tail and run, to leave me for dead." She smiled, a genuinely happy one too. "You know you may be one of the few people to kill one of those bastards. I'm impressed. I mean obviously I could…"

He interrupted her quickly, and with no idea as to what he was going to say, he started talking.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for trying to kill you, for being so cold and distant, for being so brutal. I…I don't even know why I'm saying this but I am and I'm sorry. You're more than…"

She rolled her eyes.

"Oh shut up sap face! I forgive you. I had forgiven you when you took on that amuka uren'not. So stop that. It makes you look five, and goddess knows you look ten when you look grown up!" She laughed and stuck out her hand. "Friends?"

He shook it, savoring her touch, feeling the walls he had built up around his heart break just a little. Another person that had connected with him. Another person that was important to him. That made two.

"Friends."

* * *

><p>"No, no, no, no! That is NOT acceptable!"<p>

Elincia sighed, rolling her golden brown eyes. They had been in court for nigh on three hours now, and the gentle, morning sun shining through the east windows was now glaring down at them. She had only invited herself and the "real" nobility, or the dukes and duchesses of each region. Considering the grave topics on the agenda, Elincia felt that it was not necessary to call upon every single earl, duke, and mayor to the meeting, not to mention all of their important knights and associates. To be frank, the room was simply not large enough. But this had proven to be a bad idea. Only Lucia and Bastian really supported her decisions, and the Crimean queen had forgotten how power hungry the nobility was. Only the lesser nobility truly appreciated all she did for her (and their) country.

But none of the aristocrats surrounding her were nearly as bad as Linnus, the duke of Nados. He was a hot-shot young man, barely older than Elincia herself, but he still felt that his slight advantage in age gave him seniority over her. For a noble he was oddly tan, as if he spent all day outside, which clashed painfully with his light blue hair. His eyes matched his hair and held fearless arrogance, their icy blue depths cutting into your very soul. But he had no skill in weaponry and was all skin and bones. So Elincia felt that if push came to shove, she could take care of him.

To his right sat Priscila, the duchess of Arbor. This was her first time in court, and in Melior as well, so she sat towards the end of the table remaining shy and timid. Elincia didn't know her very well but she never agreed nor disagreed with anything her Queen suggested, so Elincia simply wrote her off as an opponent. She had hazel eyes, maroon hair, and what appeared to be a slight figure but her voluminous dress masked her body. To her right sat Kent, the duke of Canteus, an older gentleman with spiky white hair. He was quiet, yet seemed to be very meditative and wise. A decade ago he served as a captain in the Royal Knights, and was in fact slated to be a general until his cousin died and he inherited the dukedom. Therefore, he was still very muscular as well as threatening.

On both sides of her sat Lucia and Bastian. Lucia had inherited Delbray after her father had stepped down, and although Geoffrey had been offered it instead, he felt that Lucia would have done a better job. Plus Geoffrey had the knights to worry about and had no idea about the subtlety of politics. And naturally Bastian was still there beside her, weaving his eloquent speeches while sneaking around behind her back fixing her problems. She couldn't lie; she didn't like him doubting her abilities to take care of things but…Bastian got things done. Not to mention she knew of every move that he made. But it was ironic that the head of Crimea's religious capital was so…deceitful.

"Duke of Nados. You need not overreact; I was simply making a suggestion." Elincia responded to young noble's outburst, speaking gently but firmly.

"You don't tell me what to do! I need this money! I must rebuild the castle. It has been four years since it collapsed and I am tired of living in the manor!"

She sighed and rolled her eyes. Linnus was still upset over the destruction of his home during the Mad King's War. Thanks to the Black Knight, Nados Castle had collapsed and killed Linnus' father, causing the young man to succeed his parents at as tender of an age as Elincia herself. But unlike her, he had become bitter and angry.

"Please. Remember who exactly you speak to Duke." Elincia said, slightly threatening.

"Who? Who is it I speak to? All I see is a weak woman who can't even maintain control…"

"Linnus! That is enough; I will not allow anybody to insult Her Majesty like that!" Lucia shouted, rising up from her seat and pounding her fists upon the table. Bastian also rose, albeit more slowly, and laid his hand upon Lucia's shoulders.

"Simmer down my pretty doe. Sharpened hooves do not become your heavenly face. And my fiery young prince, please don't insult Her Majesty. She is a sun, and maybe her benevolent light has yet to reach the lands of Nados, but soon she will shine upon all of glorious Crimea!"

"Shut your trap you idiotic poet! You hide behind a veil of graceful words but you have no real steel, you just bend down and lick this Queen's feet!" Linnus spat out the words, sneering at his fellow members, "It is disgraceful!"

"Please Lord Linnus, don't cause trouble." Priscila muttered at the end of the table, yet none heard her.

"That is enough boy, your anger is controlling you. That is what marks the end of a man." Kent stayed in his chair, yet his voice conveyed all the anger and disappointment that Lucia showed with her outburst.

"Old man! You know not what you're talking about. You're mind has grown mushy with age!"

"Why you little, arrogant…" Kent started.

"Linnus shut your trap! Delbray will fight you if you rebel!"

"Hush my doe. I will be your antlers and fight your fight. You need not get so flustered! I will take out that little, fragile boy."

"Watch yourself, silver tongue!"

"THAT IS ENOUGH!"

A loud boom rung throughout the room, and the whole room full of bickering nobles became quiet. Elincia was standing up, her body shaking with fury, and in her hand she held a short knife. It had been pulled from her dress, and despite the small size of the weapon, its stone hilt had produced the loud, dull, ringing effect that she had wanted.

"I will not have MY nobles sitting around a table that is supposed to bring prosperity and peace to Crimea and bicker. Now," Elincia said calmly, all traces of her loud, angry outburst gone from her voice. The nobles sitting around her were way too young, but even worse, too inexperienced. She was used to having older men at her side, still attacking her every move, but not making such a show about it. The place was a madhouse! "we have an empty seat at this table."

Linnus looked around blankly, obviously confused at what Elincia was implying. "What are you talking about? Stop talking in riddles!"

"Duke Felirae you fool! He's not here is he?" Lucia spat back at his stupid question, enjoying her new position in the court. She used to be the victim of all the nobles nasty remarks, but now she was one of the more senior members. So much confidence could be her bane but Elincia decided to let it slide; she could use a hot-blooded ally.

"I heard about that. Weren't they," Priscila said her voice timid and choked up, "assassinated? Oh…it's so sad! I bet they were such nice people. It isn't right; this shouldn't be allowed to happen!"

Everybody looked at her, a little shocked. Priscila had raised her hazel eyes and was staring pointedly at Elincia with something akin to disappointment swimming in their depths. The queen actually squirmed in her seat. Somehow failing this girl was worse than angering or saddening every other single person in the room. She was just so innocent; it felt like she had shown a child the horrors of war and crushed its fantasy of happiness and peace.

"I…uh…well we are not going to let whoever did this get away with it. That is why we are here today, it is why I called you…"

"Actually it's not…"

"Please let me continue Duke Nados." Elincia was flustered after being blindsided by Priscila's naïve and emotional remark over the Felirae assassination. "I didn't know Ludveck's brother well but I will not stop until justice is served. Even if he was related to the man who tried to overthrow this country, I will still avenge his death. We cannot let anarchy run this country!"

"Your Majesty, do we have any idea who did this? I heard the assassin killed both the Duke and his wife. How are we going to find somebody so, brutal? I am sure he covered his tracks." Kent said.

"Yes Lord Kent, I realize the danger of this…man. However, luckily he left witnesses, and I have called them here. They recently arrived, and I suppose they will tell us their story." Raising her voice, she turned to the double doors behind her and called, "Guards! Bring them in please!"

The double oaken doors in front of her creaked open, and let in a draft of fresh air along with two very frightened women. One of them was grossly overweight, rolls of fat cascading down her body, while the other was painfully thin, her cheekbones sticking out of face so badly that they looked like leathery wings. The pair looked around in awe, the elaborate décor more than they were used to back at home in Felirae. The meeting room was currently in its entire splendor, bathed in an opulenceof shimmering light. The noontime sun was currently at its zenith, and normally it would not have been able to light up the third floor hall. But earlier that summer, the palace had installed a small pond at the base of the palace halls in the courtyard below, and the glaring sun was now reflecting off the body and shining into the room. Elincia knew that she looked especially impressive, the light streaming in from the windows behind her and throwing an angelic look upon her, an aura of pure luminescence coalescing behind her. Combined with the wall of windows and the shiny trimmings strewn around the room, the table of them probably looked more like gods than just people. It was for a good reason that this room was called the Hall of Radiance.

She beckoned them to come forward and they did, albeit hesitantly. The larger one stumbled and almost fell but the skinny caught her at the last moment, her arms visibly shaking from holding up such a large amount of flesh. They stood before the table behind a small podium, specifically designed for instance like this when one had to appear before the court. A slight shift in the sun's position caused a beam of light to shine upon the couple's faces, and Elincia felt bad when she winced a little bit. They were most definitely not attractive women.

Linnus visibly shuddered, and said very loudly, "Ugh. Now I know why I only hire pretty women. Poor Felirae must have been going blind."

The remark shook the two women out of their daze and they both stared at Linnus, a little taken aback. The big one had gotten very red, and the skinny one was twisting her hands together nervously, cracking some joint every second. The rest of the room winced again, Kent shaking his head and Lucia glaring daggers at Linnus. The guards, feeling awkward and wanting to get out of the situation, quietly excused themselves from the room. Elincia clapped her hands together and pretended like she had not heard Linnus' comment. She could not reprimand her subjects in front of the populace, especially gossipy maids. It would be a disaster.

"I called you here a few days ago after I received word of the Lord and Lady Felirae's death. I was informed that you had seen the killer, and been the first to the scene? If you wouldn't mind, could you please tell us your story Miss…" Elincia said, her calm voice masking her fury at Linnus' insolence. She smiled sweetly at the two, and they immediately relaxed, focusing their eyes on the Queen.

"Uh…I…my name is Sophia. And this is Dorothy." The slender woman gestured to her obese companion. "We are…were humble maids in the service of Lord Felirae. He really was a good man, I can't believe anyone would want to hurt him. And Lady Tessa was a wonderful woman, she always gave us extra pay for polishing her silverware, and she never looked down on us. Oh…it's just so horrible! I…sniff…uh…oh…" She hung her face in her hands and began to sob, her whole skinny frame shaking violently. Beside her, Dorothy had recovered from her shock at Linnus' cruel remark and now puffed her chest. She seemed proud that she was not as upset as her friend.

"Yes. They were great people, great employers, and great rulers. But now they are dead and we need to avenge them! So I will tell you everything that I know.

"That night it was the new girl's turn to take care of the Lord and Lady. Nobody knew much about her, other than that she came from the east, probably from Daein. His Lordship only hired her because she was pretty, not because of skill or talent. He told me so himself. So naturally when me and the girls saw her that night, she was off lollygagging in the halls. We reprimanded her and she went scuttling off, her tail in between her legs. After a few minutes we heard a loud thunk, and then another loud clashing of metal. Before we knew it, a man in a blue cape came rushing down the hall, blood spattered all over his clothes. Over his shoulder was the new maid, and when he passed us, I saw her eyes open up. She looked really scared. She screamed for help and the assassin hit her over the back of the head, and she passed out. The girl was an idiot, but I kinda feel bad for her. She's probably dead."

Elincia was a little taken aback by the woman's bluntness, and obvious hate toward this maid, but she made no comment. She turned to Lucia and Bastian, and saw a similar look of incredulous disbelief and shock on their faces. Looking back at the fat woman, she saw that the maid was actually proud, her chin stuck up and her hands on her hips, although as to what she was proud of Elincia had no idea.

"Do you know the name of this maid who was kidnapped? And what did the killer look like?" Elincia asked, curious as to how much the two girls knew. And if they were telling the truth or not; she had an inside source to the murder that she would be talking to later, and Elincia knew she could rely on this person.

"The girl's name was Aimee. And I don't remember much about the man. He had blonde hair and a blue cape but other than that, I know nothing."

"He was attractive. Which is what I don't get! How could someone so good-looking kill three people? It's so wrong and so confusing! I just don't understand!" Sofia had interjected and was now rubbing her hands more vigorously than ever. The room was filled with the sound of cracking knuckles.

"Wait a second. I thought only the Lord and Lady were killed Miss Sofia. So who is this other person?" Kent asked, obviously confused.

"Oh. The killer attacked a guard too. I guess he did it on his way out. When I saw the blood spreading over his armor I almost threw up, and then when we saw the Lord's room…" Sofia bent over and made a retching sound, but luckily nothing came out. She was dry heaving, and her whole body was shaking. Elincia sighed, reminded of the first time she had seen a dead body and had time to react. She had fainted. The girl needed some time to calm down.

She looked at Dorothy and said "You may go now."

Dorothy nodded, performed a small bow and grabbed her friend and hustled out of the room. When she opened the huge doors hurriedly, one of the guards looked into the hall and at Elincia. She nodded to him, and he rushed off, intent on finding somebody. The rest of the nobles were shocked at Sofia's escapade, even Lucia and Bastian, so Elincia's next witness was able to enter the room before the nobility had a chance to bicker or argue over the previous testimony. For this, Elincia was glad.

"Wendy?"

Kent was goggling at the woman who had just stepped up to podium. She did not react to his outburst, and her bland face was that of a soldier's; impassive and tight-lipped. She looked like a normal woman except for two things: her bright pink hair, and her large muscles. But she looked better than she had before in her drab maid's smock as her muscles no longer bulged underneath her clothing. Donned in light blue leather armor, Wendy stood completely still, gazing at Elincia and waiting for instructions.

"Wendy! What are you doing? I thought you were still in the Royal Knights! What do you have to do with the Felirae assassination?" Kent practically choked out the last question and it was fairly obvious that he was extremely worried about, and extremely attached to, this woman. Not to mention he seemed to be a little afraid.

"Wendy!", Lucia spat out intensely, "At ease! You obviously know this man, so at least answer his questions. You are among friends, you can speak openly. You are much too stiff girl! Relax!"

"Yes, please listen to her Wendy. You have my permission." Elincia spoke gently, hoping that the woman would listen. She did.

"Ok, thank you Your Majesty." Wendy turned to Kent, a look of adoration in her eyes. "I missed you Teacher…"

He beamed up at her, and she smiled back, although a little tentatively. "Where have you been all these years? After I left for Canteus, we got out of touch. How do you know anything about Felirae?"

"I'm sorry Teacher, it's just that my new profession required absolute secrecy." Elincia saw Lucia roll her eyes and mutter something under her breath, but then Wendy continued, a little louder and more choked up. "I'm a spy for Lady Lucia now. She has a whole network of them. After you left the knights, I trained for a few more years and made my way up the ranks. And then Daein attacked us.

"I was under Duke Renning's regiment, and I was the only survivor, at least other than Renning. But I didn't know that. So I found a dead Daein soldier and donned his armor. I joined up with a Daein unit and traveled with them. I was able to secretly dispose of their captain and take command of the unit. When we took control of towns, I was able to hide ex-Crimean knights. Eventually I gathered enough ex-knights and we killed off the Daein unit. We all redressed ourselves in their armor and reported to Melior. By the time the Crimean Liberation Army came, we had sabotaged most of the capital. It was because of this that Ashnard was defeated and Melior retaken.

"Anyways, Lady Lucia and Queen Elincia found out about my behind-enemy-lines accomplishments, and Lady Lucia hired me. When she gained knowledge of Ludveck's impending rebellion, I was sent there. And that's where I've been ever since."

Wendy finished her long sabbatical, and you could tell that she was nervous as to what her former mentor would say. But the fact that he was smiling and had tears in his eyes showed that he was proud of her, and she relaxed. The rest of the nobles were also very impressed, and Lucia was also beaming with pride.

"Wendy, what do we need to know about this assassination?" Elincia asked, a little ashamed of breaking the tender moment.

Wendy sighed, and turned back to the Queen. The sun had begun its downward journey, so the room was now draped in shadow and Elincia no longer felt so imposing. "First off, the maids were right. They were cruel, mean, bitter women but in their testimony they were accurate. But I don't think we have to worry about the assassin, or the maid. He won't kill her nor do I think he is looking for possible ransom. We have greater things to focus our attention. The crown has been betrayed and the way things were standing, that assassin did us a favor Your Majesty."

In the back of the room, Priscila gasped and uttered, "But what are you saying exactly Spy Wendy? You're not saying that…"

The spy looked back at the maroon-haired woman firmly. "Yes. I am saying that. Lord Felirae was planning another rebellion. His brother, that blackheart Ludveck, left him explicit instructions on what to do if his plan to overthrow Her Majesty failed. And since Ludveck was executed almost two months ago, Felirae's plan was almost ready to be put into action. And I fear that now his Captain of the Guard may follow through now that Felirae himself is dead."

The whole room had gone sheet white, except for Linnus who was leaning back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. Wendy simply nodded her head, remaining calm and composed. It was Bastian who spoke up first.

"My lady of the shadows, thee with the all Seeing Eye and never sleeping ear, how exactly does this evil Watcher of the Night plan to exact these diabolical plans against the heavenly Crimean Crown? Surely he has not the men of war nor the supplies to enact such barbarous instructions upon such a fortified country as ours, who is strong in heart, valor, and arms!"

Wendy looked at Bastian, her mouth slightly agape. "Uh…I think I know what you are asking Count. Felirae was planning on using mercenaries to fight against the crown, as they are disposable, loyal, and easy to find. Since Felirae is such a rich dukedom, he wouldn't have had trouble paying them. He had already gathered about half of the necessary forces, and on my way here I saw a lot more heading back towards Felirae."

Elincia was shocked at Wendy's implications, and she felt that it showed in her voice and behavior. She quickly told herself to calm down, and taking a deep breath, she addressed the whole room.

"I feel that we have had enough for one day. You all may return to your quarters; however I expect you here tomorrow morning an hour after daybreak. Wendy and I will stay behind to discuss any possible plans and to exchange information. You are dismissed. It was a productive day today!"

She tried to end on a high note, but she knew that nobody was in the mood. They all got up and shuffled out, Bastian trying to put his arm around Lucia, and Linnus grumbling over something. She got up as well and walked over to the window, her long white dress trailing out from behind her. The stone hilted knife lay in her palm and she began to twirl it back and forth along the back of her hand. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Wendy walk up next to her, and also gaze out the window at the pond below in the afternoon sun.

"Queens shouldn't be seen playing with such things in public. It is bad for your image."

"Please, Wendy, I need to be able to protect myself. Plus it shows that I am strong and it intimidates the nobles."

"Yes, that it does. Once we squash the rebellion, we will need to nominate a replacement. The line has died out."

Elincia turned and looked at her, her eyebrow arched. "Who were you thinking of?"

"I don't know. It might be good to make a commoner the new Felirae line. It would give the people more confidence and reassurance in the nobility."

"That's very risky. And untraditional. Speaking of reassurance, now that all my friends are off ruling duchies or training in the Royal Knights, I'm going to need a new person by my side, protecting me. And I couldn't think of anyone with a better sword arm with you. I trust you."

"Your Majesty, no offense meant, but don't take me for a fool. I fought with Ludveck at Alpea as a common foot soldier. I saw the blue-haired man who saved Lucia and I saw his sword dance too. You trust the swordplay, not me."

Wendy spoke firmly, as well as respectfully, but Elincia could tell the girl had a slight edge to her voice. She sighed and looked away again, disappointed that her ruse had been seen through.

"Fine. Maybe I do trust that dance more than any others. But you still know it and that makes you just as capable. I don't know how you learned it, or why you fight the same as Lord Ike and Lord Greil, but I do know that I feel safe behind any blade that follows that tune. So if you will not accept my offer, I will make it an order. If Felirae is trying to dispose of me again, I need another pair of eyes watching my back.

Wendy grinned and turned to Elincia, her eyes glinting. "I would be honored Your Majesty. I was going to accept anyways. Plus your style is close to the same as mine, so we could spar and learn from another. It is our duty that Gawain's swordplay is never lost. But past all that. What are we going to do about Felirae?"

It was Elincia's turn to face Wendy, golden-brown eyes staring into baby blue eyes. Her eyes sparkled, delighted with some revelation or genius idea that she was itching to tell.

"I have a plan."

* * *

><p>A light clacking sound echoed down the hallway, its frigid atmosphere and bleak, desolate stone-lined walls turning what would be another relaxing, comfortable hall into a prison-like corridor. Another one of the delicate sounds issued from the shadowy hallway and then repeated itself again. It seemed that the noises were being made in a pattern, and were coming closer. From the gloom came a young man, his dark blue locks hanging in his face, the white and gold cape draped over his shoulders fluttering in the small draft of the long, never-ending hall. In his right hand lay a book with a dark cover, and in his other, a golden cane. It was no more than a fancy wooden stick with a gold ornamental piece on the top, but from the way the man leaned so heavily on it, the simple crutch seemed to be integral to his mobility.<p>

Pelleas staggered down the hall, trying his hardest to maintain some dignity and self-reliance. He had refused to let Nolan help him down to the throne room, and now because of it, he was extremely late. And extremely late meant late by three hours. Although he was sure that they would be talking about nothing again, or making stupid, pointless decrees, he still felt bad that he was arriving late, especially since he had promised Micaiah that he would be there on time to back her up. But as to why Sothe couldn't fill that position, he had no idea.

It seemed that in the past week their marriage had gotten ten times worse. Even across the hall he could hear them arguing in their chambers at night, and the nobility constantly whispered rumors about them, about how King Sothe had mistresses and how Queen Micaiah was tramping about. The last nobleman who told Pelleas that _he_ had heard that the Maiden of Dawn was running around with one of the butlers, Pelleas had punched him in the face. Supposedly the man got a broken nose, and after being fixed by one of the mendicants, had fled Nevassa as fast as he could. This man's pain brought Pelleas immense pleasure, and most his satisfaction had nothing to do with hurting the man who talked bad about one of his closest friends.

He shook his head and looked out a nearby window, the sharp bright stars shining like shards of swords placed against the backdrop of a silky black cloth. He didn't know what was wrong with him. In the past few months, Pelleas had been feeling every emotion more and more strongly, and his mind was awhirl with the chaotic flux of powerful feelings. Less than a year ago, he would have been devastated at the thought of hurting a nobleman so badly, even for a just cause, but now it brought him amusement and gratification. He had been more violent, more sadistic, and most of all, more apathetic towards others ever since Ashera had been defeated in Sienne in the Tower of Guidance. If he had believed strongly in the goddess he supposed that he would be acting this way because she had been truly evil and was gone for good, but he had always condemned her for bringing so much pain and suffering into the world.

But to say that he didn't like his new way of behavior and new personality was a lie; he loved it. Pelleas had no wish at all to return to his former wimpy, weak, and helpless self, the laughingstock of the rest of the warriors that he had been traveling with. He knew how Sothe use to mock him and demean him all the time, and at that point, even though he had been mad at the asshole, he hadn't the strength and courage to stand up to him, but now…he felt as if he could take anyone on, even with his debilitating injury. Although it was frustrating, it allowed people to underestimate him, to make them think that he less intelligent and clever than them because he happened to be unable to walk properly. Their ignorance made them sloppy, and through use of the dark arts and simple eavesdropping, Pelleas now knew how everyone in the Royal Castle felt about him. Most were just neutral, or just didn't give a damn, but a few, especially the nobility, thought him weak and foolish. They would soon be proved wrong.

He had reached the gigantic oak doors that marked the entrance to the throne room, two gigantic rings serving as both doorknobs and door knockers. Despite the size and thickness of the doors, Pelleas could still hear shouting coming from within the giant hall. He let loose a small groan. In order to make his intimidation clear, he would have to enter purposefully and with an agenda, striding in with some snide comment to hush the debating aristocracy. Since he was late, he knew that they would look down on him and think him ignorant and foolish, and frankly, he was not in the mood to deal with their petty opinions.

Even though he could hear the loud noises and obnoxious yelling coming from the throne room, he could not specifically discern what exactly the quorum was saying, meaning that he would have to wing his entering remark. He frowned, thinking of what to say. Leaning on his cane, and fingering his spell book, the perfect idea came to him and he opened his Carreau tome. Somewhere in the book there was written down an incantation to hear and see whatever one wanted, a clever, useful spell that he had used frequently to spy on others. The book had cost him a small fortune, well over what a normal dark magic tome should but the shop owner had seemed to know what she was doing. Whoever had the volume before him had written a number of incantations that they had thought up themselves out of the ancient language. Pelleas himself didn't know the meaning of words in the ancient language or how to write them down, but he could look at the scrolling script and sound out the words, which was more than most people could. Combined with his natural magical talent, he made for a powerful sage, even if there was no knowledge behind his skill.

He found the right page and scrutinized the letters, slowly pronouncing them. It took him a few times, as speaking in the language always did, but he eventually got it right and felt the tingling aura of magic spread out around him. He repeated the spell again, this time giving his speech more force and command, bidding the magic to listen to his words and follow his instructions.

"Usak owimimotukom atana inihsataw ahegak."

Pelleas felt a unnaturally cold draft of wind sweep of wind fall over him, and suddenly, he falling through the air, as if he had just jumped off a mountain and was experiencing weightlessness. He hated this spell because of its very nature of an adrenaline rush, and by the time he had coalesced in the shadows, his heart was beating furiously. His body stood completely still outside the two oak doors, yet he himself, his essence, was pooled in the nooks and crannies of shadow in the surrounding hallway. Pelleas moved forward in the shadows to the throne room, slipping under the door and placing himself in a small corner of the room near the door. He knew that nobody else could see him, as there was no visible evidence of his existence inside the room, but he still felt too wary to place himself underneath the table, or under the overhang of the throne. It was hard to get through your head that you had no body, and Pelleas assumed that he would have to repeat this spell numerous times before he would be able to completely relax in this form.

He inspected the austere throne room, its dark stone walls and sinister candelabra accentuating the dark appeal that was the very essence of Daein. Next to no moonlight fell through the high windows, so every candle was lit, but all they did was cast the room in an eerie, sinister light. But upon the massively tall throne sat Micaiah, looking completely out of place.

Even though she was akin to a goddess among the people of Daein, or at least used to be, Micaiah was the apotheosis of her country. Her shimmering silver hair clashed against the dark, baser tones, and her wide gold eyes conveyed an innocent naivety that did not belong in the hardened country of brutal winters (and brutal kings). Which, just maybe, was why the people used to love her; she stood against everything that they had known and everything that others assumed about Daein. But it still disgusted Pelleas how quickly Micaiah's most faithful had turned against her once things in their country didn't end up perfectly. While she didn't make the best rulings all the time, and the people certainly had sound enough reasons to dislike her, Pelleas knew how hard the Queen of Daein tried, and how inexperienced she was. Granted, he had not been much better but…he felt that she should not have the crown, especially considering her circumstances.

Micaiah had too many secrets, too many deadly secrets, to be in the spotlight and try to pass laws. With her removal of the barons' power and influence, and her inability to banish bandits from the land, especially to the south, it was only a matter of time before somebody put the effort into uncovering her past and discovering her secret: her identity of being a Branded. And since Daein was so prejudiced, and more hateful than any other country, Pelleas knew that if her secret was revealed, than it was a legitimate possibility that she could be lynched. And that would be the demise of Daein. But there weren't many other options; the only other people possible of ruling Daein were Branded. Pelleas himself, since nobody knew that he wasn't the true heir as they believed that he couldn't take the pressure and stepped down, and Soren, the son of the dragon Almedha and the mad king Ashnard. He shuddered to think of what Soren would do to Daein, with his uncompassionate ways and his cold, mathematical calculations. Pelleas truly thought it possible that Soren had no soul especially after the…

A shout from the room interrupted in ruminations.

"No! You back-alley fool! We cannot send the whole Royal Army to the south to quell some rumored insurgency! We have not even heard reports yet from Nox or Talrega. If the southeast is having trouble, they will contact us."

A nobleman with flaming purple hair was standing up, glaring at Sothe. He was at the end of the table set up in the hall for the meeting today and therefore had a straight view toward Micaiah seated upon her throne and Sothe standing beside her. The green-haired man eyes sparked with fury, and the previous thief seemed ready to jump out at the indignant noble and cut his throat out. Yet from the look of things, Sothe no longer wore his classic outfit of a midriff shirt with baggy pants outfitted with endless sheathes for knives and daggers; instead he was wearing voluminous black and green robes, no doubt made and tailored specifically to him. He was a king after all, even if he was a king to a country on the brink of tearing itself apart.

"We must stop any possibility of a rebellion before it begins! If the trouble to the south is a revolt and not a bunch of bandits, then we must head down there and wipe them out! The royal army does not have the numbers or skill to deal with a planned out, efficient insurgency of nobles and peasants. Daein was wiped out in the last war!" Sothe snarled, walked swiftly down the throne stairs despite his expansive clothing.

A thin woman spoke up, her voice controlled but holding the slight tremor of fury and fear.

"I agree with King Sothe. And you have no idea what you are talking about Lord Kisca. We must wipe out any rebellion before it grows too big. Plus even if there is no revolt in its early stages, then at least we will intimidate the people down there. Any idea of a rebellion would be vanquished!"

She smiled sweetly at Sothe, but all he did was snarl at her. Lord Kisca stood up incredulously, his mouth sputtering, but one look from Sothe seated him. By now, the king, who had been slowly walking to his table of subjects, was now right in front of the aristocrats, the lot of them shrinking under his glare.

"I believe we are all in agreement? We will pool our forces together, march on Nox and Talrega, and wipe out any insurgents. Now I believe that you have some men to spare right Kisca? And I know that you Warden Umono have a number of armed men that violates a certain decree limiting the size of your army…"

A stocky red-haired man with extremely pudgy fingers stood up in shock, moving his mouth up and down.

"King Sothe! I run a prison! We need the guards to maintain control of the inmates, they are very dangerous. I am flabbergasted that you would suggest that I am violating the law for selfish, traitorous reasons!"

"But you ARE breaking the law, aren't you? Disobeying your king is disobedience pure and simple, no matter which way you put it! Perhaps you should be institutionalized into your own prison?" Sothe nearly shouted, red in the cheeks with fury and spittle flying from his mouth. Pelleas had no idea what was wrong with him, but he was glad that he was not in the room with Sothe right now.

"Sothe!", a chastising voice rang out from behind the king, "that is enough. We will not fight and demean our subjects."

He turned and glared at Micaiah, his eyes filled with what seemed to be hate and extreme embarrassment. Pelleas could see that he was twirling his fingers, a sign that what he wanted to be doing was spinning a dagger across the back of his palm. Micaiah was right all those nights when she had to come to him with tears in her eyes; her marriage was really bad.

"Excuse me?" he said, his voice icy and threatening.

Micaiah straightened up in her throne and tried to look strong, but Pelleas could tell that beneath her composure she was quivering with fright.

"You should not chastise the warden. He employs many men because he is trying to keep this country safe, to protect its citizens from dangerous men that would rape, steal, and murder without thought. He is a good man Sothe."

Sothe snarled at Micaiah, his wife, the same way he snarled at the nobles who had so infuriated him. He advanced at her, stopping only when he was a few feet away.

"Maybe so," he said in the same chilling voice, "But he still broke the law that YOU decreed. Plus I have heard that he is against wiping out this rebellion and believes that there is no such discontent. Surely that ignorance is enough for us to look down upon him. Or do you agree with Mr. Umono?"

Micaiah took a deep breath to steady herself, and then look pointedly at Sothe, their intense stares creating animistic tension. Pelleas had thought his friend would be taken aback at her husband's cruel behavior, but apparently this had happened enough times that she was no longer shocked.

"I have faith in my people, and they have faith in me. That is all I have to say."

Sothe then glared at her with such hatred that even Pelleas shrank back from his hiding spot in the shadows. The rest of the court was murmuring incredulously, shocked that the king and queen would so publicly disagree with each other. Then Kisca and Umono stood up, broad grins on their faces.

"Yes! Thank you Your Majesty, and you are right as you always are! The citizenry loves the queen, and appreciates all that she does. She is the Maiden of Dawn!" Umono said, shaking his flabby arm, causing his entire body to ripple. Lord Kisca clapped his hands and cheered. The purple-haired noblewoman stood up and started yelling at the men, and from there the throne room descended into chaos.

Everyone began to stand up and yell at each other, pounding their fists on the table and hurling obscenities at each other. After he was done glaring at Micaiah, Sothe turned and joined the fighting. Pelleas groaned inwardly, ashamed at his country's lack of responsibility and civility. He truly wondered (and hoped) that other countries acted like this when the powerful people got together, but he knew that it was unlikely. Daein was a broken country; it always had been, and always would be. A bright flash of light lit up the room, and Pelleas saw that Micaiah had stood up and cast a light spell in order to compose everyone. However it had no effect and the queen's subjects continued to fight. He decided that it was time to make his entrance and calm things down.

Pelleas released his hold on the spell, and felt the nauseating rush as he was drawn back to his body. Within a second he standing back in front of the two massive oak doors, and could finally feel his fingers and toes again. Letting loose of a shudder, he walked forward and made as if to open the two doors, but before he could, they flew open.

The purple-haired woman stormed out, a stony look on her face, while almost the whole retinue of nobles followed her, still arguing amongst each other and red in the face. Pelleas staggered back and threw himself against the wall before he was trampled, and through an act of grace, he landed on his feet and did not fall. A few seconds after the furious aristocrats left, Micaiah stepped out from the doorway and into the corridor. Pelleas could still hear two men fighting in the throne room, and from their voices, it seemed like Kisca and Sothe. He made a slight coughing noise and Micaiah looked towards him, a smile spreading over her features as she headed to her friend.

"I guess you didn't make it to court today. You're lucky, it was a mess." Micaiah said, her face becoming downcast as she remembered the past few hours.

"It's ok, I heard some of it, and saw some of it too." Pelleas replied. Micaiah stared at him intently, confused as to how he could have been there if she never once saw him. After a few seconds of silence, her eyes lit up with realization and she giggled a little bit, a welcome sound to Pelleas' ears. She hadn't been laughing a lot lately, it was healthy for her.

"Hehe. I guess dark magic has its uses doesn't it? Here let me see your hand."

Pelleas looked at her, his turn to be confused, but he acquiesced anyways. But when he held it out to her, she shook her head and motioned for the other one. All of sudden understanding dawned on him. She knew! She knew about him, and his Brand, and oh goddess he had no idea what to do. So he gave her the hand with his Brand, and she held out her marked hand as well. Although none of them were looking close enough to realize it, their Brands were exact inverses of each other.

"This isn't the mark of a Spirit's Pact is it?" Micaiah asked, although Pelleas knew she already knew the answer. He had no idea how she had found out, but the disappointment and sadness in her voice made him feel bad. He knew that she felt betrayed that he hadn't told, had even outright lied to her!

"No, no it's not." Pelleas said simply. He felt that if he was talking to any other person, he would have to make a big long speech explaining himself, but with Micaiah…he had just always felt that words weren't necessary with her.

"Pelleas! Why didn't you tell me?" She said incredulously, and slightly upset.

"Would it have mattered? Would it have really changed anything?"

He raised his voice, angered that Micaiah would be so disappointed and hurt. But she paid his outburst no mind, and for that he was glad; he was already regretting losing control. She was looking in the throne room at Sothe, who was stilled yelling furiously at Kisca.

"Maybe.", she said musingly, "Maybe it would have Pelleas. Maybe it would have changed things a lot, changed them for the better."

He sighed and looked down at the floor. What was she saying? Was she saying that if he had told her, that she would've been his, that she wouldn't have fallen for Sothe? Did he really mean that much to her? But there was no need to dwell on the past. What was done was what was done, and there was nothing he could do about it now. All he could do was be a good friend, and he surprised to have made peace with that. A lot of his anger, and his apathy seemed to have just disappeared in that instant.

"What are you going to do? About Daein, the rumors of insurgency, Sothe? You have to do something Micaiah."

She sighed, and tears were welling up in her eyes.

"I don't know! Things are just so bad right now, and I have no clarity, I have no idea what to do! So much for being the true apostle and being connected with a goddess. My powers can't even help me with my marriage!"

Pelleas was at a loss for words, as he had no idea what to tell her. Things were bad, and unlikely to getter better soon. But what she needed was some hope, something to give her a reason to look forward to tomorrow. Then he thought of a saying from his childhood, told to him by some person from so long ago that his memory didn't even go back that far. All he saw was this saying swirling around in his head. So he spit it out.

"It's ok, everything will be fine. It's always darkest before the dawn."

* * *

><p><strong>I hoped you enjoyed it! My longest chapter yet! (Which isn't saying much but...) Anyways, a few things need to be covered first. First of all, the weird words you saw in there are the verbalization of the ancient language, courtesy to . Essentially it is romanized Japanese backwards. I am not going to offer translations unless they are in the story itself because...well my spells sound lame and corny. Second of all, I don't know if the idea of a whole colony under a desert sounds preposterous to anyone else but that's what I decided to do for the Brandeds. I just felt that it was the only way it would work, as there was no city set up in the desert ingame, and no ruins large enough to support a village of people. Finally, if anyone is having trouble keeping track of all the OC's, just drop a review or PM me, and I will explain anything you need to know, including backstories, lists of which people you need to know, personalities, etc. Unless I plan on some of the info being included in the story later, and then, well I'll just give you what you need to know. So, in conclusion, I hoped you liked it, and no more long author's notes, I PROMISE. p<strong>


	4. The Kindling Catches

**Author's Note: Well, as it turns out, I cannot write 16,000+ words in four days; it takes me at least a week. So I apologize for the three day wait everybody! I also looked over my past few chapters and found out that I have been skipping words, having bad grammar and spelling, etc. I will start proofreading the chapters before I publish them now. And as for the source where I got the verbalization of the ancient language; its **

**Review Responses: First off, as a general shout out to everyone reading this fit; I am sorry for the fragmentary plot of this fic. I realize that the different plot arcs are starting to make things confusing and a little vague. Things WILL elaborate, please keep on reading! Plot arcs will join, characters will be cut out, etc. Things will begin to speed up and get simpler, don't worry.**

**Also, as a response to ikerulesall if he is reading this (which I doubt but...) and all others against yaoi; this is NOT a yaoi fic. Yes, I realize that as of right now Ike and Soren kind of have a repressed thing for each other but...simply put, if you HATE yaoi, you can still read this fic. A huge part of this fic is the characters finding out where there allegiances lie, meaning where there loyalties are, what they truly believe in, who they REALLY love, etc. And since this is set in the character's POV and not an omniscient third person then...I'm just saying that if you are anti-yaoi, don't give up yet. The characters are supposed to be confused, it adds to the realness of the fic. I want this thing to be as accurate as possible. **

**SOOOO, I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Fire Emblem or Intelligent Systems.**

* * *

><p><em>The Kindling Catches<em>

The sun shone down on the city square, baking the dusty cobblestoned path. Sounds filled the marketplace, the beckoning calls of shop women emitting out from underneath red and blue canvased stands, the shouts of children playing in the alleys, and the general din of customers arguing and bickering over prices. People of every shape and size were milling about Melior's largest plaza, but two stood out. Although they blended into the expansive crowd, for anyone who was looking the two women's' apparel stood out against the drab peasant clothing of their fellow shoppers.

One of them was a muscular woman, dressed in light blue leather armor, her hot pink hair standing out in the crowd like a candle in the night. Strapped to her back was a respectably large sword, and despite its size, she moved with an uncanny grace and elegance. Next to her was another woman, this one of a much smaller and delicate stature, her tight robes showcasing a relatively skinny body. Her robes were a dark cherry red and she held in her hand a golden staff topped with a dark red orb. She had normal, mousy brown hair, and a pale complexion, yet the thing that stood out the most about her was her golden brown eyes.

They held wisdom that did not belong in the eyes of a peasant, and they held sorrow and pain that a comfortable cleric would never have experienced. She, like her companion, walked with grace and poise, but with a social air, unlike the militarized image of her friend.

Elincia loved the market. She was still not used to crowded places due to her isolated childhood, and the lonely confines of the royal castle. In fact the most crowded area she had ever been in was the battlefield, so to be in such a happy place with an abundance of people still pleased her. Although, while walking through the plaza, she had discovered that she was slightly claustrophobic, a fact that she had quickly grown to hate as she felt like a snooty noble trying to avoid the common person. Luckily however, she didn't look like a rich noble, or even a well-to-do merchant.

After receiving the news about Felirae from Wendy, Elincia had decided to go out to the people and discover what they truly thought about the crown. However, she knew that in order to garner their true feelings about herself and her policies, she could not look herself. So she had gone to one of the court magicians, and he had changed her. He had made her less muscular and more skinny, had switched her luscious green hair to a drab, thin brown but most importantly, he had changed her face to be more…Begnion. She didn't mean to be stereotypical or racist but her previously soft features had become harder, with prominent cheekbones and a square jawline. But most of all, she looked nothing like herself.

"Milady," Wendy leaned in close and whispered in her ear, "we should go have a look around."

"Wendy, remember our story?", the brown haired Elincia turning to look at her bodyguard, "My name is Rayna, a Begnion cleric from the church in Sienne."

"Ok then Rayna. Would you like to go look at that fruit stand? The woman running it looks chatty." She raised an eyebrow, her blue eyes twinkling underneath her pink strands.

Elincia simply nodded and set off. Many of the people in the market noticed her Begnion looks and either ran into her on purpose or got out of her way. The citizenry was still upset and angry over how the Senate had invaded Crimea without her consent and laid waste to many of the smaller towns. Even in Melior this sentiment held fast, a city that was completely unaffected by the invasion. She hoped that her new looks would not cause her people to hide what they thought, although she supposed that if they did not like the crown they would be more apt to vent towards a stranger.

They had reached the fruit stand, and Elincia looked up at the woman running the vendor. She was a larger woman with bright red hair and large hazel eyes. It seemed as if she had been around a while, as she had a shrewd and skeptical look about her. Wendy was busy rummaging through the piles of fruit, making it look like she was looking for the perfect pear or apple. Elincia couldn't keep her eyes off the woman and was again captivated by the life of the commoner. She knew that it shouldn't surprise her much anymore, especially after being exposed to the outside world for almost four and a half years, but the stark simplicity and labor of the commoner still threw her for a loop. The fruit vendor glanced at Wendy after a minute and glared at her.

"Hey! You gonna buy something or not? I can't you smear your filthy, mercenary paws all over my merchandise! Either buy it or back off!"

Wendy glanced up at her and returned her glare. "Hmph. I knew I should've stayed in Begnion, everything good is there. Ha! All the fruit here is bruised and rotten anyways."

She made as if to walk away but the fruit dealer grabbed her arm. Wendy spun around and laid a hand on the hilt of her sword. The woman backed off and pulled a short lance out from underneath a shelf. Elincia looked around and saw that their scuffle had not yet attracted any attention but she knew that it was only a matter of time. Worried, she stepped forward and in between the two angry women.

"Please! Ladies stop! Ma'am I am sorry that my friend here offended you, she is quick to anger. I think we will be going now." Elincia spoke calmly while gripping Wendy's arm and starting to drag her off. They had walked a couple feet when the woman called out.

"Hey! Stop!", the two of them turned around and the woman continued, "Get back over here."

Elincia hesitated, but she saw that the lady had put her lance back under that stand, so she presumed that it was safe to head on back. They stopped at the stand and the woman looked around suspiciously, then leaned over the fruit and spoke to them.

"Hey. You guys are from Begnion right? I mean I'm no fan of the Senate and you guys are uppity snobs but…there isn't anyone around here who would admit to not liking the queen. I mean I love Crimea and all but, you guys know what I mean! It's just…"

Wendy looked over at Elincia and arched her eyebrows. Elincia was trying to keep her cool but so far was not succeeding. She felt the anger and battle lust come over her and it took all her willpower to not reach out and strike the woman. What the hell had she ever done to this woman? But she took a deep breath and smiled.

"I know what you mean. Things back in Begnion are much better than here. I mean the Senate might not be the best but at least Apostle Sanaki is a good leader. Begnion has always been prosperous." Elincia said, trying to keep an edge out of her voice.

The woman's eyes lit up and nodded fervently.

"Yeah! Yeah! It's just that Queen Elincia can't like protect our nation! I mean first Ludveck and the rebellion, then the Begnion insurgency, and then we fight with the Laguz Alliance! That was all in one year! It's just wrong that she allied us with the subhumans too. Those damn furry beasts! You know a woman really shouldn't rule a country. A real monarch needs to be a man…" the woman continued ranting until she noticed Elincia glaring at her fiercely.

The fruit vendor backed up, her face shocked and her brown eyes swimming with fear. Wendy tugged on Elincia's arm and she spun around, her eyes flashing. The pink-haired woman simply nodded, and Elincia walked away briskly, clenching her hands so hard that her palms began to bleed. Wendy turned back towards the shopwoman and unlimbering her sword, leaned in toward the frightened lady.

"Watch what you say about Her Majesty. You never know who is listening." Wendy spat out and walked away, jogging lightly to catch up with Elincia.

She sheathed her sword and grabbed Elincia by the arm. Spinning her around, she saw that her face was contorted and red, and a single tear fell from the queen's golden brown eye. Wendy winced, and through her tears Elincia could see that she felt awkward. She had only cried once before in front of Wendy and she knew that the spy was no good with comforting or making people feel better. Wendy was a warrior, pure and simple; she was not supposed to be the best friend, or the doting mother that she never had, yet Elincia was having trouble getting that through her head.

"I'm fine. Really I am. She's just some stupid peasant woman who doesn't know…" Elincia tried to choke down a sob but failed, and her whole body wracked with the force of it. She reminded herself that she would find no comfort from her friend. But Wendy surprised her by putting an arm around her shoulder and squeezing her tight.

"Hey. Look I know that we aren't very close and that we only have a professional relationship as of now but…I just want you to know that I'm saying this as an honest friend, not as a subordinate trying to suck up.", the pink-haired woman swallowed, and Elincia could tell that all this emotion was rough on her. "This woman doesn't know anything. She's only one person, and from how nobody seems to go to her stand, it seems like she isn't a representative of the majority. You're a great queen. Yeah, she's right, there has been a bunch of wars during your reign but you got us through all of them! You won back our country! Next to nobody would be able to do that Your Majesty."

Elincia looked at her and smiled, pushing her new brown hair out of her face. She turned around and smothered the woman with a tight hug, which Wendy in turn did not reciprocate. The spy simply stood there, tense with her arms at her side. Elincia let go and let her grin slowly fade, wiping the tears off her face.

"Thank you Wendy. I don't think we no longer have to pretend we are best friends from Begnion anymore," the queen laid her hand on her companion's shoulder, "as I consider you a real friend now. Now come on! We have to get to work!"

Wendy simply nodded and they set off, weaving their way through the bodies of people. Once again, their fellow Crimeans avoided Elincia, staying away from her Begnion looks. Elincia got to thinking about what their main goal in the market today was. She knew that they were supposed to find out what exactly the people thought of her and her policies, but she felt as if there was some greater purpose to her being in the plaza. Without any warning, a woman ran straight into her and continued right on by, leaving her sprawled on the ground. She was wearing a tight pale pink dress and a hood of the same color, so Elincia could not see any of her features. It seemed like she was chasing after a man in a blue cape.

"Wendy, help me up please." Elincia said, a hint of command in her voice. She couldn't lie; she was slightly angry that her "friend" couldn't be bothered to get her up and she was for sure incredibly embarrassed.

But looking up she saw that Wendy had an intense look on her face and was staring fiercely at the pink-clad woman and the mysterious blue cape she was running after. Without realizing it, the spy had unsheathed her sword and was moving slowly after them, a dull, blank look on her face. Frightened, Elincia pulled out the stone hilted dagger she had hidden in her robes and got a better grip on her staff. At that moment however, Wendy's eyes cleared and she sheathed her sword while grabbing Elincia by the arm and pulling her up. She still had the intense look on her face.

"Come quickly. We must get out of here. Now."

She said it with such authority that Elincia had no choice but to follow, and she did exactly that. They hurried through the crowd, weaving their way in and out of people. Finally, Wendy stopped them underneath a tavern in a dingy alley, in a section of the city which both the nobility and the common folk liked to call The Seediness. She wasn't sure what it meant exactly, but Elincia did know that too much crime happened here, and that it was too run down. So essentially, she was scared.

"Wendy! What is going on? This area of Melior is nasty. Please can we leave?" Elincia asked, trying to keep the whininess and begging out of her voice.

"Your Majesty. Please be tough. I believe that there is a dangerous man here in Melior, and I need to keep you as safe as possible. Just rough through it. If you can live through countless battles, then you can sure as hell as keep yourself together in an alley!"

She had a definite edge to her voice, and its biting retort caused Elincia to hide her head in shame, her cheeks a flaming red. Wendy noticed her mistake, and hurriedly moved to correct it.

"I'm sorry milady. I…it's just that this man, if he is who I think he is, is extremely dangerous. We have to be careful."

Elincia just nodded, embarrassed at her incompetence and cowardice, as well as ashamed of her lack of faith in her bodyguard. When she looked up, she saw a man strolling down the alley toward them. He had a confident gait, and strapped to his back was a quiver-full of arrows along with a massive bow. His arms were overpowered, bulging with muscles, but his legs were normal sized, if not slightly skinny, making him look disproportionate and not nearly as threatening as he could've been.

"Is this man more dangerous than this guy? There's no way his arms are bigger than this guy's." Elincia stated, slightly jokingly, but the humor was lost on Wendy. She simply nodded and laid a hand on the hilt of her sword, ready to unsheathe it and cut down the man with an overhead cut if necessary. Elincia gripped her staff tightly, and gently placed her fingers on the dagger hidden within her robes. There was a small notch at the bottom of her recover staff and she could insert her dagger into it, turning the harmless staff into a lethal lance-like weapon. Her restore staff secured the knife better but it would change her hair back to its normal color, and would restore her face and body to its normal shape. And that could not happen at all.

"Hello ladies! You girls look outfitted for some dangerous times. It's a good idea you know. Smart gals." he said, his voice surprisingly high and nasally.

"Oh really? I hadn't realized that these times were so rough," Wendy said, slightly offended to his subtly derogatory attitude. "please, do enlighten me."

"Ha! Oh you guys look smart; I think you know full well. You look like you're from Begnion! Which begs me to ask what you are doing in lovely Crimea, considering our two nations don't have the best relations as of right now."

"I really don't think that it's any of your business, sir. Now excuse me but we must be leaving now. It was nice to meet you." Wendy said curtly, her and Elincia starting to turn away.

"Not so fast ladies!"

The man had equipped his bow and had strung an arrow up as well. Wendy unsheathed her sword and shoved Elincia behind her, her arms quivering from the adrenaline rush and shock. Elincia stumbled behind her and flipped her staff on its end, inserting the dagger into the notch. She peeked out over Wendy's shoulder and saw that the situation remained the same. If worse came to worse and they had to move, she would have to attack simultaneously with Wendy before he got a shot off. Arrows still scared her silly, even though she wasn't riding her pegasus right now.

"Ok. Now, now, let's not get hot and heated okay? All I'm asking is for you two gals to come with me. You need money I'm sure. Versatile ladies are the perfect type of girl; you're both comely and deadly, a thing that will earn a pretty penny. So just come into the bar with me and we'll talk it out ok?"

Elincia stepped out from behind Wendy and took a few steps forward, trying to look as calm and relaxed as possible.

"I really don't think we need to do as you say. Now I used to be a clergywoman in Begnion and the head priest told me", she said, remaining as calm as possible, "that fighting is never the answer. My friend may be a little violent but we don't want any trouble…"

Then man snarled and stepped forward, pulling back on the string of his bow.

"Enough talking."

He loosed an arrow straight at Elincia but she managed to dodge it by stepping off to the side. It whizzed right by her ear, ruffling her hair in its wake. Wendy had already run forward to the man and was swinging at him, yet he blocked each blow with his bow. It must have been made of steel as it refused to snap despite Wendy's hard hits. Elincia herself rushed up to the man, and as busy as he was with Wendy, he did not notice her until she placed the edge of her staff-dagger against his neck.

"That's enough! Step down and run away Kiev! I don't want to see you again!"

The archer gulped and ran away hurriedly, lucky that he had not been cut by Elincia's knife. Standing in the doorway of the bar was an extremely muscular man, yet he carried no visible weapons. Behind him stood a company of about a dozen men and women, outfitted with various weapons. They were a rough looking bunch, their faces marred with scars and still healing bruises, their eyes stone cold and blank. It was obvious that they were mercenaries who only lived for battle and money.

"Excuse me sir, but who are you?" Elincia inquired, curious and wary as to whom this man was. But she also hid her staff-dagger combination behind her leg, hoping that the mercenary troupe wouldn't see it and try to recruit them.

"The name's Samuel. And don't try to hide your little staff shindig from me, it's obvious that you two are some form of mercenaries, and that your little cleric story is just an act. Now as for me, the gang and I are off to Felirae, our next mission. I thought we could use a healer, despite whether she is a member of the clergy or not."

Elincia sighed and looked at Wendy, who shrugged nonchalantly. She then proceeded to flip the staff over and remove the dagger, hiding back within her robes. One of the men behind Samuel raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"Yeah. We're mercenaries from Begnion. And we could use the money. But we don't like to take on jobs we don't agree with. What's the specifics?" Wendy said stiffly, betraying no emotion. It was obvious that she was trying to get information but Elincia felt that she was taking it a bit too far, especially considering these people really wanted them to join them. She didn't want to get stuck traveling with them to Felirae.

"Taking down the crown. The Crimean crown. Something every loyal Begnion wants right? Especially after they massacred you in the war alongside the laguz…" Samuel drawled.

Elincia stepped forward, speaking hurriedly and obviously worriedly.

"Sorry. We-we're really not interested. Good day."

"Well, well. It's not like a mercenary to turn down what sounds like a lucrative job is it? Unless you're some spies for the queen?", a large, axe-wielding man asked threateningly.

"And what is this incredibly high price? It better be large, especially to rebel against the crown." Wendy asked.

Samuel snorted, amusement glinting in his eyes.

"Ha! Come on, you girls aren't dumb. If a man wants to rebel against the powers that be, he has to have money. And if he has the money, then he'll pay his soldiers a lot. So yeah, it's worth it, no matter what. The money, the excitement, the danger, and the pleasure in fighting against a great power, it's everything a mercenary could want. It's the perfect job sweeties, unless you got another agenda and this job conflicts with your loyalties? And the pay is a thousand each, sugar. You coming?"

Wendy glared at him and took a few more steps forward until she was face to face with Samuel. He smelled like smoke and burnt clothing, not to mention he had fiery sparks dancing in his eyes. It was now obvious that he was a fire sage, so the two decided not to anger him, lest he decided to roast them. Plus it seemed like they had no choice in the matter, unless they wanted to reveal their true identities and crush any hope of defeating the second Felirae rebellion.

"Fine then. We'll come."

The troupe left the bar and headed toward the main gate of Melior. They already had their supplies, so there was no chance to leave a message to Lucia or Geoffrey saying where exactly the queen and her bodyguard were. Elincia leaned in close to Wendy and whispered softly, rustling the hot pink hair of the spy.

"Wendy, what are we going to do? My disappearance will create a panic! Crimea will be thrown into chaos!"

Wendy looked at her reproachfully as they passed underneath the gate and away from Melior. They were on the road to Felirae, and to the enemy. It was ironic; the rebellion's greatest enemy was now one of its allies, perhaps its most important if there were no other healers. Elincia sighed, disheartened by the possibility that if she was found out, she would never see her friends again, never rule her country again, and the chance of saving Crimea would be gone. Wendy placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned in close to her queen.

"Worry not milady. We are going to destroy this rebellion from the inside out!"

* * *

><p>They were an odd crew, the five of them. They walked down the dusty dirt path, under a canopy of grey-blue cloud, a woman upon a horse, a man upon a wyvern, and three foot soldiers lollygagging their way across the countryside. It was peculiar. There was a horse that could hold two, and a wyvern that could hold three, yet the small company still chose to go at a leisurely pace, all of them remaining on the ground and talking amongst one another. They were close, especially considering they had all met up less than two weeks ago. A love for their country bound the mercenary troupe and solidified their vindication for their cause; to protect the common man from the vultures of mankind, the rugged beasts that leapt out at the innocent from the wild.<p>

Haar took in a deep breath, puffing out his chest and tightening his armor, and then let it out, swirling the dust motes in front of him into a tiny tornado. Another job. It was their third already this week, and although the previous two had only been driving out a band of thieves, he was still exhausted. And bored. They had been traveling across the Daein countryside for the past four days, going at a leisurely pace. He had never realized just how huge Daein was on foot, and he was used to traveling across the country in no more than a day and a half. Talrega seemed like ages away from Nox, and although he did not necessarily dislike sleeping on the hard, rocky ground, Haar still missed the comfort of his bed back at the castle. The soft sheets and fluffy pillows beckoned him, as well as the lure of Rebecka. She was riding with them, but he had only talked to her a minimal amount over the past few days. The baroness of Nox seemed much more taken with their three new companions.

Both Mia and Zihark seemed to be essentially obsessed with Rebecka, and they would talk for long hours, completely ignoring both Haar and Ilyana. While he got that Rebecka never had a lot of opportunity to socialize before, and while he knew that he wasn't always the most exciting person, he was still hurt that Mia's bubbliness and Zihark's cool detachment would intrigue her more than him. Not to mention that Ilyana's friends never gave her the time of day either. But at least he and the thunder sage had grown close during the war against Begnion. Mostly because he always took pity on her and fed her constantly, at least until she had gotten Zihark over to their side.

Which he guessed was more than what Jill did for him. He had talked to her whenever he could find her on the battlefield, and it always ended with him running away, refusing to fight her and possibly hurt her. No matter how hard he tried, she always refused to join the Laguz Alliance and fight with him, always putting her loyalty as a soldier first. Haar guessed that he had never truly come first in her life, and for that he was grateful that he had met Rebecka. Even though she sometimes ignored him, or angered him greatly, he knew that they both truly cared for each other, and that they would support each other no matter who, what, or when.

"Haar?" Ilyana said tentatively, "Can I come up there on Celica?"

He nodded. She looked exhausted, and on the verge of collapse. The troupe hadn't brought much food with them, and Haar knew that his ever-hungry friend had not nearly gotten enough food as she needed. But Celica was always wary around her, and rightfully so. Thunder magic could tear a wyvern apart, blasting straight through their hard scales. He would have to teach Celica that she could trust Ilyana, but he was not anywhere close to confident that she ever would.

"Yeah. Sure, but leave your tomes down there with Zihark or Rebecka."

She staggered on over to Zihark and handed him her two books. They were looking dangerously tattered, and Haar presumed that he would have to put aside some of their pay for new tomes. His axe was beginning to get notched as well; he might buy a new one in the town that was their destination. They were less than a mile away by now, and he knew that the village would be in their sights within the hour. He looked down and saw Ilyana trying to clamber up one of Celica's leg, but Celica was trying to get Ilyana away by swinging her spiked tail dangerously close to the girl's face. Haar held out his arm to her, and after she grabbed it, he swung her up, placing her down behind her. Celica made one last angry snort and then calmed down, continuing to walk on the path. Haar knew that she wanted more than anything to fly right now, as did he, but soon they would be able to. There was nothing scarier to a groups of brigands than a huge wyvern swooping down on you.

"Haar? Do you have any food? I'm…starving." Ilyana breathed. Haar shook his head and bit his lip, trying not to laugh at her. She wasn't that hungry; he could tell by her voice. He had fed her enough times to be able to tell her varying levels of hunger, and she was barely hungry. The sneaky mage was just trying to sound like she was about to faint so she could get some food. Considering how much she ate, Haar felt like she should be the size of Celica, not a skinny twig that practically blew away in the wind.

"No, sorry kiddo. We can get some food when we are done at the town, it's just around the bend. You can wait an hour right?"

She harrumphed and crossed her arms, obviously pouting. Haar internally groaned; she was getting more like Mia every day. Soon she would want to spar at god awful times in the early mornings, and claim that she was going to scour the world for her true rival. To be blunt, he couldn't handle two purple-haired monsters at one time.

At that moment, they walked out beyond a copse of trees and the small village came into view. Like all the other towns in Daein, it was fortified, with a tough sandstone entryway, and what looked like a structurally sound gate. However this town was unusual, as despite its generally small size, it had walls surrounding it on all four sides, and looked nigh impregnable, at least for the simple ruffian. Haar had no idea how they were even being threatened, or why they had sent a messenger upon wyvernback to Nox.

Haar heard no screaming women or children, and no flames climbed the stone walls. There seemed to be no problem. He hoped that there was at least some type of problem, if only for some excitement to break up his eternal boredom. But the messenger had paid them before he left, and a considerable sum as well, so Haar guessed that there was something dangerous going on. He stopped Celica and turned around to face the rest of his men.

"We're here."

He had planned to say something bigger, something more motivating, perhaps philosophical and deep, but those two words were all that came to him. It summed up everything; here they were, no matter if the town was being attacked or not, no matter if their help was truly needed or not, no matter if they were walking into a trap set up by the fabled southern insurgents or not. His men were here to do a job, and they would do it no matter what.

Rebecka simply leaned back on Topaz and raised her eyebrow, obviously questioning his motive and thought process behind his statement of the obvious. He allowed himself a small grin; he had finally gotten the girl to notice him again and catch her attention. It helped too that the rest of the babbling troupe had quieted as well, and that everyone's eyes were on him. Even though Rebecka was the noblewoman, and the lady with the money and power, they as a couple had agreed that Haar should lead their pentad as he had more experience with battle and strategy. And it was nice to finally be recognized as the leader.

"Um. I don't know what to say. Well you guys can see that we have arrived here at the town. And that it is not under attack, at least not from our viewpoint. So we must be careful when approaching and entering, just in case the bandits have secured the town before we have gotten here, or the townsmen have set a trap for us."

"Sir Haar! Why would the townsfolk do that? I mean we are here to help them and they asked for the help! Plus it's a stupid idea, we are obviously stronger and better than them, they'd be massacred!" Mia practically shouted out, her cocky and excitable personality bursting out from within her.

Haar smiled ruefully, Mia's nomenclature for him bringing up pained memories of Jill from the Mad King's War all those years ago. She had used to call him Captain Haar, Mr. Haar, and sometimes Sir Haar because she couldn't address her "superior" in a formal way. But he would have to get over her, at least momentarily, unless it was to affect his leadership and wariness for his surroundings, which a lack of could be his end. He had Rebecka and Jill should be no more than a passing memory for him, but no matter how hard he tried, she continued to pop up in his head, either in poignant memories or "what ifs".

He shook it out of him mentally, only allowing a small shiver to pass through him physically signifying his efforts. Memories and ruminations could not affect him at such a critical time like this. And Jill was not worth it; although they had been friends, he supposed that they may never have been as close as he had thought they were. She had never given him the time of day and now he would not give her the time of day.

"Mia, you don't have to call me Sir Haar, Haar is just fine. And the southern rebellion supposedly exists right? I mean surely advocates for such a revolt against the powers that be would dislike a powerful woman like Rebecka, and her lackeys as well. Plus this town looks like it once used to be prosperous but it's now run down, so they probably have met rough times and are blaming it on the nobles and Queen Micaiah. So be as wary of the townsfolk as well as any ruffians OK? I don't want any one of you to get hurt beyond repair. Or die."

"Hmph. You should show yourself more respect Haar, you're a formidable warrior. Although I bet I could beat you, since I am a whirling storm of ringing blades. Ha! Do you want to spar? If we hurry we could be done before we have to enter the town! Come on, ready your axe wyvern rider!" Mia shouted, whipping out her sword and entering a fighting stance, ready to fight her new rival.

Haar sighed. Mia had not gotten the point at all and was now rambling about how he was a wimp and couldn't stand up to a woman and how he was not living up to his reputation as the most powerful wyvern lord in all of Tellius. He ignored her, instead turning to Rebecka, Zihark, and Ilyana.

"Look, this is what we are going to do. We will approach the town gate, our weapons sheathed and our heads held tall. We have to look professional and threatening, so I want Zihark, Mia, and Ilyana to walk on foot. If there is no obvious threat we will find the mayor and talk to him in order to find out what the situation is. We may or may not get our pay, so I want you guys to know that. No acting out if they don't pay us for doing nothing.

"But if we are attacked when we enter the town, then this is the plan. Rebecka and Ilyana, I want you guys to stop immediately and take aim. Try to take out any archers or mages first. Zihark I want you to break left, and Mia! Put down your sword and pay attention! You are to break right. I am going to go airborne on Celica and take out anybody out of your guys' line of sight. Once you clear the entrance area, I want Rebecka to make sure the townspeople are safe and protect them. Zihark and Mia are to search the alleys to find any other enemies, and Ilyana is to stay at the entrance and stop any reinforcements. Everybody got it?"

The rest of the mercenaries nodded, their faces solemn in anticipation for what was to come. This battle, or lack thereof, would be the worst because they had no idea what to expect. Either the bandits would pull an ambush on them when they reached the town, they would find the town already occupied, or there would be no issue at all. Haar sighed; there would have to be a lot of improvisation and that could lead to disaster.

"Ok. Let's do this thing troupe. This could be our defining moment as mercenaries. Let's make it a good one."

They marched across the small meadow that lay in front of the town, its small yellow wildflowers dotting the wispy grass to each side of the road. Haar now realized why the town was so fortified; at some point, this town had been a major thoroughfare. He counted no less than six major highways intersecting in front of the town and suspected that there once was a variety of smaller roads that had now been covered with grass. When they were halfway across the quarter-mile plain, they saw an odd hummock of upturned dirt. After inspecting it, Zihark said that it was a traditional Daein grave, something that was only still practiced in smaller towns like this one. He said that from the looks of things, it could be no more than two days old. Haar did not like this, as it meant that somebody or something was killing off people in the town. The worst case scenario was that bandits had indeed invaded the town and that people were dying because of it. He guessed that they would have to be on their guard no matter what.

The ragtag mercenary group passed under the sandstone archway and into the town proper. It seemed to be deserted without any noises, visible people, or the general din and cacophony that came with a normal village. However there was no blood pooled on the streets either, so Haar took that as a good sign. No blood meant no bodies which meant no brigands. At least not yet. The troupe walked down the main thoroughfare until they reached the cobblestoned town square, a respectably large pond situated in the very center. It was surrounded by a few trees, some flowers, and a bed of grass, reminding Haar of the city gardens dotting Melior. It solidified the prosperous past of this town.

They stopped right next to the crystalline pond, perplexed as to why nobody was showing themselves. However, at that instant a man came dashing out of a large maroon shingled house on the edge of the square. He seemed to be elder in his years, yet he had a spring in step and his hair was still jet black, albeit with a few gray streaks. Dressed well for the common peasant, Haar guessed that he was the mayor although the man did not have the looks of a pampered nobleman, even if he was only the ruler of a small town. The man was very muscular and there were scars crisscrossing his face giving him a tough, almost sinister look.

After reaching the small garden in the center of the plaza, the man proceeded to run up to Celica's foreleg and stroke her dark blue scales. He ignored the five people standing around him, instead choosing to admire the wyvern, running his hands all over her lower body. She purred like a cat, arching her back and nuzzling his hand, causing him to notice her head and to begin to stroke the top of her head. Both of their light green eyes sparkling, the man finally looked up at the people surrounding him. He stared at each one, holding eye contact with each person until he laid his eyes upon Haar.

"That's a nice wyvern son! Is she wild or domestic? I know she's one of the Daein types; they're always bigger, tougher, and stronger than those skinny Begnions.", the man said.

Haar opened and shut his mouth a couple times. He was completely caught off guard. Here was the mayor of a town that was quite possibly under threat from bandits, and he was asking about the origins of Celica! It was crazy. All he wanted to do was sleep and put off all this mystery and oddity until another day. But he answered the obsessive mayor anyways.

"She's a wild one. I found her abandoned by her mother in the forests near Tor Garen as a child, and I raised her, tamed her, and eventually rode her. Now sir, if you don't mind me asking, what is going on here in this town? Are there bandits or not?", he said tensely, a slight edge to his voice.

"Hahaha! Boy, you two must be close then. She's a fearsome beast I can tell you that, but she doesn't beat those reptiles from the north. Now those are the nasty ones let me tell you. Hmph. Korls. Now that reminds me…I got something to tell you all…"

"Excuse me sir? Did say Korl?" Haar hurriedly interrupted, overcome with excitement. There were two types of wyverns: those found in and around the Grann Desert, the Begnion type, and the ones found around the Death Desert, the Daein type. The Begnions were generally smaller and leaner, but faster, while the Daeins were bigger, stronger, and slower. However there had always been legends of a third type of wyvern, the Korl. They were supposed to be massive, strong enough to fight with three people upon their backs and still be unaffected. And this man talked about them as if he KNEW that they existed.

"Yeah I did boy. This used to be a wyvern town, a center for the wyvern trading business. I sold them to the Begnion senators, to Daein herself, to merchants and farmers, to everyone. And in my youth, we would get massive wyverns from the north occasionally, brought in by men in thick fur coats wielding huge spears and swords. I just assumed they were the Korl, as both the men and wyverns were too big to be Daein."

"Wow."

Haar was speechless. He had always been hearing legends about the mystical Korl, a northern tribe beyond Daein dedicated solely to riding wyverns through the icy, forbidding climate that lay in the northern regions. And now to find out that it was true; it was like when he first saw Ashera and it registered that goddesses and gods really were real. Life-changing. The two men simply stood staring at each other, their eyes glittering. Even when Rebecka cleared her throat, obviously trying to get them to get back on track, the two men did not move.

"OK! That's enough talk of giant wyverns! Let's get back to the matter at hand boys; are there bandits here or not?" Rebecka spat out reproachfully, yet her angry speech was drowned out by the shriek of a massive wyvern. The mayor's eyes widened, his irises almost disappearing completely and his pupil dilating. He began to stutter.

"Th-th-they're back! P-please you m-must help us! They've k-killed one of us already!"

With one last shudder and shake, the mayor ran away to his house, slamming the door. Haar looked up and saw a massive brick-red wyvern flying overhead, a rider encased in golden armor upon its back. A platoon of bandits, myrmidons, archers, and a few thieves came rushing towards the pentad from the direction of the gate. Haar tensed up, trying to decide what to do. He should probably help his troupe down on the ground, but it would leave them open to attack from the air. Without wasting another moment on thinking, he made his decision.

"Zihark, Mia, form a protective barrier in front of Rebecka and Ilyana. Back up to the pond! I will take care of the rider."

He jumped up onto Celica as the four of them got into position, Zihark and Mia in front, Rebecka and Ilyana behind them. They were ready to go. With a loud roar, Celica leapt into the air using her powerful hind legs, propelling herself toward the circling wyvern right above them. Right as they took off, Haar heard the sounds of battle commence and then the screams of dying and injured men. He unlimbered his poleax from his back, gripping it in his right hand, while taking out a hand axe and holding it in his left. With one last powerful beat of her wings, Celica and her formidable rider rose up to meet the other rider.

The creature was even bigger up close and his rider was no less unnerving. His golden armor was shaped oddly, the shoulder plates ending in exotic flutes, and his helmet had an odd ridge rising up in the middle of it, making it look like a hunched over human back. The man held a lance of impressive craft, looking like it was either silver or steel. He twirled it above his head, his wyvern letting loose a roar equal to that of Celica's, and they charged.

Haar, anticipating this move, kicked down on Celica, forcing her into a low swoop that went underneath the red reptile. He swung up his axe but the wyvern realized what was happening at the last second and pulled almost straight up, clipping Haar in the shoulder with his tail. Although his armor rang with the force of the grazing, the hit was not enough to seriously hurt Haar. Flipping over, Celica took Haar straight up, chasing after her opponent. She bit at his tail, but he swung it out of the way and then rolled over, intending to slash Celica across the face with his razor ebony claws. At the last moment however, Celica pumped her wings, propelling her back at a position that left her vulnerable, soft belly open to the wyvern's teeth. Before he could deal a death bite though, she whipped her tail up, striking him under the chin and the force of the blow causing him to perform an aerial backflip in order to maintain his momentum. The acrobatic maneuver was done eerily fast, and the only way to avoid his retaliating bite was for Celica to freefall to the ground. Haar hung onto her with only his legs, knowing that a slight release in the pressure holding him in place would cause him to fall to his death. Celica flipped a few times, and when she righted herself, she shot up.

Meanwhile the brick wyvern had dived straight down towards them. At the last second, he opened up his wings, and to avoid running into his outstretched wing, which was lethally dotted with small claws, Celica twisted her body. Haar readied his axe for a decapitating blow, intending to let the cyclonic momentum to carry his axe and hit the gold-clad rider before he had a chance to react. Right before his blow landed, the rider brought up his spear and blocked his swing, pushing back on Haar's axe and batting it away. Both of the wyverns swung around, and for the first time, the two warriors faced each other at far enough distance that they got a few seconds rest.

Haar kicked Celica forward at the same time his enemy did, both of them intending to play a deadly game of chicken. However neither of them backed off, and the two wyverns met a ferocious clash of scales, claws, teeth, and steel. Celica wrapped her legs around the red wyvern, her claws digging into the grooves in between his scales, her wings beating furiously to stay airborne. The two wyverns clawed and bit at each other while Haar and the other rider sparred with one another. The two humans were evenly matched, each one meeting the other's blows, neither one more overpowering than the other. But it was Celica who was weaker. The brick red wyvern was stronger than her, and despite her slight speed advantage, she could not fend him off. He bit down on her shoulder, bringing the other rider dangerously close to Haar, in fact close enough for the other to whisper in his ear. The gold clad soldier swung his lance forward, but in such close proximity, Haar did not have the room to block the attack with his poleaxe without hurting Celica. As a last ditch effort, he swung his hand axe in an arc in front of him, and through sheer luck, managed to hit an exposed wood part of the lance, shaving off the deadly pointed end. However the lance still hit him in the chest with enough force to knock him off Celica's saddle and begin his descent to his death upon the ground.

At the last minute, the rider grabbed Haar by the leather strap holding his chestplate together and leaned in close to him. Haar tried to get loose but there was no purchase that he could find, and he was essentially fighting against the air. He could smell the man's breath, a mixture of onions and putrid beef.

"My name is Selice. And my mount's name is Blaze. Fear us.", the man rasped, his voice deep yet wheezy.

Haar snorted, trying to maintain some humor before his death.

"Ha! What an original name."

Selice growled threateningly and pulled Haar closer, his red eyes alit with fury.

"Nox will burn for your interference with our plans. Know that you cannot save your friends or ever stop us, and drown in dread. Now die!"

With that the man let go of Haar and he was falling. He felt weightless, and in a sense it was comforting, like lying down on a soft bed. With his back to the ground, he would not know when he hit it, so his death would be sudden, fast, and painless. He heard Celica shriek when she noticed that he no longer sat astride her back, and she released her grip on Blaze and dove down after him, but both she and he knew that she would never reach him in time.

Suddenly, he felt a hard oomph, and all the wind was blown out of him. He waited for the pain to come, but it didn't and it was then that he felt a pair of arms holding him, and realized that he was still falling fast. The beats of wyvern wings suddenly filled his ears, and Haar thought that he would live until a gust of wind rocked his body, his savior, and the wyvern bearing them both. The person lost her grip on him, and within a millisecond he was falling, and a millisecond after that, Haar hit the ground.

For a second time, all the breath was knocked out of him, but this time he also felt pain and steadiness of solid ground. Hoof beats vibrated across the stone pathway and through his blurry vision he saw a squad of cavaliers riding towards a somehow isolated Rebecka. She was firing arrow after arrow, but in her fear none hit their mark. But when they were almost upon her, Haar saw Celica swoop in and hit everyone single one, knocking some of the riders off their horse. Then a person filled his vision, her long red hair swooping down past her shoulders in a ponytail, her large pink eyes filled with anxiety.

It was Jill.

His vision became even more blurry and the last two words he heard before he blacked out came from her mouth:

"I'm sorry."

* * *

><p>She lost him. Damnit, she had lost him. They had just entered Melior and had been walking through the streets for no more than two minutes, headed to some bar, when they ran into a wall of people. She had no idea why so many freaking people were all crammed together in one place, and she couldn't see her environment as she surrounded by people. Having grown up in a big city, she guessed that she was in the marketplace and if this was true, then she would have to push her way through to Loyd. The idea of simply walking away and leaving him and this "kidnapping" behind never occurred to her. The assassin had become a part of Aimee's life without her realizing it. No longer was he an intruder, forcing his way into her existence, but an accepted, welcomed person in her world.<p>

For the past six days, in fact, ever since she and Loyd both broke down and snapped after talking with the old cat, the two had oddly become closer. She didn't know how exactly it had happened and things weren't exactly chummy yet as she was still wary of him and his profession of murder, but she trusted him. Above all else, she needed him, at least up until now. In the wilderness he had helped her to survive, hunting food for her, sheltering her from the elements, and he even created a bag out of deerskin for her. She still wore it even now, its strap entwined with flowers, grass, and other various flora that she had picked up along the way. Loyd was sweet in a way, kind and gentle once he got to know you and you warmed up to him; Aimee sometimes had trouble imagining that he really was a killer. But all she had to do was think of Lord Felirae's body lying mutilated on the floor, his wife sprawled in a pool of blood, slowly dying, and she felt immediately sickened with the assassin.

He had yet to tell her his story of his past, of how he was trained to kill at a young age and had no knowledge of anything else. She believed his vague hints at his troubled past however, no matter how much they may have been a convenient excuse or justification for his barbaric actions. It could have been because of her terrifying childhood, of how she grew up with pain, suffering, abandonment, and constant movement from one tragedy to another. If Loyd truly did have even half as much of an agonizing youth as she had, then she would be connected to him in a way that would be unbreakable, a bond forged out of similar pain and suffering. No longer would he be a cold-blooded killer; he would be a helpless victim. Aimee knew that, at least for a while, she would be following Loyd and if she was to do this, she wanted to be able to trust him completely.

She again scoured the crowd for his familiar blue cape. It was hard to believe that he hadn't noticed that she was gone yet, and she was a little hurt. What if he had abandoned her! Just left her to fend for herself! She was a helpless, fragile, beautiful woman who wasn't strong enough to last on her own, especially being in a big city, with all these men who would for sure want her, maybe enough to attack her. A man was necessary to protect the poor girl! She couldn't go through pain of her childhood again.

There! A sea blue cape flitted around a chunky peasant woman, the man wearing it slipping by so gracefully that the woman didn't even realize that he was there. Aimee began to run, snaking her way through the crowd after Loyd. But even though she was graceful and very coordinated, the assassin was more so, and her running speed was the same as his walk as she ran into people every other second. Then the crowd parted, and she was finally able to pick up speed and gain on him, her eyes glued to his cape that streamed out from behind him. Just out of her tunnel vision, she saw a mercenary in light blue and a cleric in cherry red, their respective pink and brown hair pulled up in a ponytail. But before she could stop it, the pair moved right in front of her, and she barreled through, knocking over the indignant cleric. She kept on going, determined to keep Loyd in her sights, and from behind her she heard the cleric admonishing her friend for not helping her up.

But then he was gone. Loyd had somehow slipped back into the crowd when she wasn't paying attention, and now she couldn't find him. What Aimee wanted to do most was throw her hands up in the air and shriek, but she restrained herself, knowing that her obnoxiousness and shallowness was what had made people hate her. She was determined to change her persona around, to become more like what she used to be, a kind, strong independent, but it was hard. Her ways had become entrenched and she supposed that if it hadn't been for Ike, if it hadn't been for their talk by the bonfire in the snow after Ashera's judgment, then she would have never realized just how annoying she was. Ike was so much to her now, more than a simple token of affection; he had been her friend for the last weeks of the war and thanks to him, she had found herself.

She owed him so much. Forgetting that she was supposed to be looking for Loyd, she slowly slipped back into nostalgic memories. It had been a cold winter night and the watchfire had been huge, its wood popping and the flames reaching for the heavens…

"Excuse me? Miss?" a woman said, touching Aimee's shoulder gently. Aimee turned around, frightened and most definitely on guard, so when the woman blanched, Aimee cringed. Her face must have looked scary.

"I'm sorry ma'am! I didn't mean to look so scary!" she said earnestly, hoping that a quick smile would allay the woman's fears. But all she did was back even further back into her fruit stand. "What do you want?"

"The man I saw you chasing, the one in the blue cape," she paid, pointing to a small alley behind her, "he went that way."

Aimee muttered a thank you and headed off in the direction the woman had pointed, scouring the back alleys of Melior. It reminded her of her childhood, from when she was just a young girl abandoned by her parents roaming the alleys, looking for food and shelter. And then the nice woman from the orphanage had come and taken her there, to this place of happiness and love and friendship with all the other children. But then something horrible had happened and she had blocked it out, and the next thing she could remember was being the apprentice to that horrible old man, to the shopkeeper.

She was in a seedy part of town, with a lot of bars and scary looking people. It was understandable why an assassin would come here to talk to his employer; no soldiers or nobleman would dare come down to such a nasty part of town. An assassin would be safe, unknown and forgotten, and possibly, to those who knew him, even revered. Aimee inwardly scoffed at such fools and didn't even think about how she was one of them, how she was chasing after a killer for hire because he made her feel safe and wanted.

Then, underneath a rotting bar sign that said "The Bloated Pig" advertising the 'Only real pig meat in Melior!', Loyd stood, his arms crossed and seemingly waiting for her. A faint smile crossed his face noticeable only by his glinting eyes, as the smile didn't reach his mouth. He had an eyebrow arched, and Aimee recognized it as the face he made when he was trying to hide either his surprise or how impressed he was. She sometimes found it hard to believe that he really was a cold-blooded murderer, one who took lives for money.

"I'm impressed. Not many people would be able to find a spy under normal conditions but you tracked me down through a crowd." Loyd said, his voice full of praise and impressment.

"I had help. So it's not really that amazing." Aimee muttered, slightly dark and angry. She couldn't believe that he had left her just to play some game! He was a stupid, idiotic, immature, foolish, sneaky, clever, mean, cruel…

"Part of being a good spy is asking questions to get information. It makes you versatile."

"Last time I checked, I was just a kidnapped shopkeeper, not a spy." Aimee spit out bitingly.

"Well, last time **I**checked, you were a kidnapped maid who just a got a chance to run away and didn't take it. So really you're here of your free will now." Loyd retorted, his hands on his hips.

"You wouldn't have come and found me if I had run?" she asked, very curious as to what his answer was. She wanted to know how important she was to him; it could change everything.

"Truthfully?" he queried.

"Yes. Be honest."

Loyd sighed and then rubbed his eyes with his tan, weather beaten hands. To Aimee it looked like he was having a hard time finding the right thing to say.

"Fine then. Honestly, I would've wanted to. You were taking a while to get here and I got worried and wondered if you had gotten lost or if someone had snatched you or something like that. Then I remembered that **I**had kidnapped you as well, and that if you didn't want to come find me, than you got that right. So I wanted you to be here with me but I was ready to let you go I guess. Then I saw you turn the corner and…"

"What a pretty speech." Aimee said sarcastically.

"Come on!" he whined, sticking his lip out, "I just threw myself out at you and you make fun of me!"

She smiled, amused at his antics. He…was great, like the perfect person, the man that she needed. But then she looked at his tools, at his instruments of death, at those goddess damn bloody knifes and she wilted inside. Why? Why did the man that she fell in love with, because she truly thought she was falling in love, have to be an assassin? Of course it was just her luck that her guy would end up being a killer for hire.

"Ok. That was sweet. And I came back and I don't think I would've left Loyd. You're right, I'm here of my own free will. You're a good guy. You're nice, funny, sweet, caring, it's just that…" she walked forward, stopping really close to him and touching his sheathed knives, "these don't belong on you."

Aimee looked up at him and saw that he was wincing and refusing to look her, instead focusing on some point on the roof across from them. Maybe she could get him to stop killing, get him to settle down with her, open up a shop, and live the ideal dream of marriage, happiness, and children. She sighed and shook her head; who was she kidding? The man was a killer, apparently trained since childhood, and she couldn't take that out of him no matter how hard she tried. Deep down she was just a hopeless romantic and her situation was killing her with its lack of a happy ending.

"I know they don't. Come on, let's go to talk to my employer. Maybe this will be the last time I'll ever see him."

Aimee's hopes were suddenly reborn. For all she knew he was contemplating murdering his employer but she chose to believe that he was hinting at quitting his job as an assassin. She walked into the bar after he held open the door for her, a true gentleman, and then walked in behind her, heading straight to the beefy bartender. His eyes were sparkling, symbols of surprised excitement, and she saw that his enthusiasm was directed toward the bartender. The two of them must know each other, she thought, not paying this phenomenon much attention and turning her thoughts back to Loyd. That she had met him the way she had and in only a little over a week had already become friends with him, or maybe even more than friends, confused her. She should hate him but something stopped her. The more time she spent around him, the more innocent he seemed, the more like the victim instead of the culprit.

She walked up to the bar and sat on a stool next to Loyd, waving to the bartender. He raised a hand in return and turned back to Loyd, an indignant look on his face.

"Loyd! This is not like you boy!", the man shook his fist at the assassin, "Kidnapping a poor maid and then forcing her here to meet your employer. I thought you were decent; at least you used to be better than the rest of them. You and Brown at least had consciences…"

"Um…excuse me? Just to tell you, I'm here of my own free will. I have chosen to be with Loyd." Aimee spoke out, unsure if she should even be talking.

"Oh, yeah, okay sweetie. Smitten with his good looks then?" the man said disbelievingly as if he didn't think that Aimee knew exactly what she was getting into. "Goddess knows you aren't the first. But honey, the boy kidnapped you and quite frankly, I think you're still scared he's gonna kill you. Now trust me, Loyd's a good guy, just in the wrong profession. I've tried to get him to stop many times but, well, it's my fault that he won't. I was the one who brainwashed him into killing as a boy."

The man ended on a somber note, hanging his head ashamed while Loyd looked away. While they seemed to be good friends, it was obvious that this was a tender subject. Aimee just sat there, her mouth agape.

"Come on, you can't blame yourself. It's not your fault, it was just your job. I mean you're still important to me and everything…" Loyd said.

"BOY! DON'T YOU DARE SAY THAT!"

Aimee shrank back in her chair, more than a little frightened. They were lucky that it was only her, Loyd, and the bartender in the establishment, or else there would be a lot of explaining to do. Or, she guessed, just a lot of killing considering the people she was with.

"I MADE THE FIVE OF YOU INTO COLD-BLOODED ASSASSINS! I have sinned beyond reckoning, bringing forth five demons into this world! At least you and Brown…" the man continued to shout, but his voice lost its volume slightly.

"You can call him Volke, you know. He's a human being just like me!" Loyd shouted back, albeit quieter and a little calmer.

"Wait. You guys know Volke?" Aimee asked, but she was ignored.

"Fine then boy. You and Volke were the best, the best killers we had but…there was never enough time to turn you into emotionless psychos before we were destroyed by Daein. At least you guys still have some morality, some conscience, and considering who you brought in, you still have the capability of human connection. She's a fine lass Loyd.", the man kindly, his temper dying down.

"Yeah.", Loyd nodded, "She is. And she's tough. I don't think she has cried once, well, except for that one time…"

"Let's not bring that up Loyd. But I'm glad that I did, if it wasn't for our talk that day…I wouldn't be here. And what is this talk about Volke and assassins and brainwashing and all this crap!" Aimee said, her voice raising to high and panicked squeak at the end.

"We'll talk about it later, okay?" Loyd reassured her.

"You better boy. This girl is traveling with you out of the goodness of her heart and quite simply, I have no idea what the hell her thought process it. But she's special, let me tell you that. There are not many ladies out there who would follow an assassin, and the only other one I know of would be Thunder."

Loyd winced and avoided contact with the man, choosing instead to look over his head at a beer stain on the walls. Aimee knew he was trying to avoid something, most likely a painful memory about this girl named 'Thunder'.

"How are the rest of them Frank?"

Frank sighed and shook his head. He pulled out a cloth and began to wipe down the already spotless bar, simply wiping the same spot over and over again. It looked like Loyd was not the only one trying to avoid bad memories.

"I don't know boy. I haven't heard from Volke in ages, in fact ever since before the Mad King's War. Rumor is that Wind is still at large in Daein, supposedly helping out with their southern insurgency. That boy always did like to cause trouble with no thought of the consequences. Freaking sociopath, he can't feel a damn thing, not even pain. Fire has been off the grid for a while now, I think he's dead. He always was careless, always valuing strength over subtlety. And Thunder…goddess knows what she's doing. Apparently, all the remaining members of the previous Begnion senate have died of poison, leaving Empress Sanaki in complete rule of the country right now. You and I both know how much Thunder liked messing around with poison, I wouldn't be surprised if it were her. I'm so proud of you and Volke boy; you two haven't given in to the joy of killing. But your last job…I just don't know what to think of it." Frank said.

"I know, I know. My employer said that it was for the good of Crimea, and I love this country, even enough to kill for it. Plus, I don't get my money until I complete a job, not before." Loyd responded, obviously unaffected by the news of his old friends' endeavors.

"Well your employer's right boy. There have been a bunch of mercenaries leaving Melior for Felirae; word is that the Lord and Lady were planning a second rebellion in order to avenge Ludveck's death. But apparently, even with the death of Felirae, the revolt is still going to happen. Speaking of which, you probably need to get back there. Your guy is in the very last room down the hall." Frank said, leaning forward a little, "And take the girl with you, the man wants to see her."

"Did you see his face? Find out who he is?" Loyd spoke quickly and quietly, leaning forward over the bar to whisper in Frank's ear.

"No, sorry son. He had that hood on again. Now go!"

Loyd got up and headed down the small, narrow hallway behind the bar, motioning for Aimee to follow him. She shot one more nervous, uneasy smile at Frank the bartender and followed Loyd, hoisting up her long, tattered pink dress so she could move her legs easier and catch up to the man. When she did, Loyd opened up the last door on the left and walked briskly inside. She followed tentatively, tiptoeing her way into the room. Like most rooms in seedy inns, it was made of rotting wood and roughly hewn grimy windows that let in next to no light, leaving the room in a dusty twilight.

A man, presumably Loyd's employer, sat at a table in the center of the room, facing the door. It looked like he was wearing dark brown robes and a massive hood that completely obscured his face. Aimee could not make out a single feature and was completely freaked out. She couldn't see the man's eyes but she felt them on her, looking her over and inspecting her body. She shivered and looked away, trying to see the view from outside the grimy, disgusting window. But she still heard Loyd and his employer's brief yet menacing discussion.

"I heard about the assassination. You did a fine job but I did not instruct you to kidnap the girl. I told you that if anybody saw you, you were to kill them. And now there are four people who saw you and know that you killed Felirae. Your mistakes will be docked from your pay." a deep voice said, the slightest hint of a threat present in his voice.

Aimee heard no response from Loyd, so she assumed that he was just nodded his compliance and his assent. And now she knew for sure; Loyd was a good man. He had let her and those three maids, Wendy, Sofia, and Dorothy live even though he would get in trouble from his employer and lose his pay. Plus he was trying to save Crimea from being torn apart in another civil war and it wasn't like the Lord and Lady would have been caught and executed for treason anyways. Loyd had just done the inevitable.

"Now the rebellion in Felirae is still going to happen.", the hooded man continued, "It will be led by the Captain of the Guard. I want you to go to Felirae and sabotage the rebellion but don't kill the Captain of the Guard. The crown will need a culprit to execute. There will be a woman with light blue armor and pink hair there. I want you to kill her and her companion."

* * *

><p>"Soren."<p>

He felt a light shaking on his shoulder through the misty haze of sleep and he groaned. He wanted to go back to sleep, he was tired damnit! Whoever was shaking him awake was going to get one nasty bruise on their forehead if they were still around when he opened his eyes. Goddess knew what time it was; for all he knew, it could be the middle of the night or the middle of the day. This colony was always submerged in darkness and although he tried to get to the garden every day, sometimes the lack of a ceiling would reveal the harsh, biting desert sun or the cool starry night. So his cycle of sleep had been totally disrupted. He used to go to bed late at night and wake up in the early, early morning but now he had completely lost track of time and just went to bed whenever he felt tired.

"Soren! Wake up!"

It was definitely a female voice, growing indignant and angry as time passed on. By now he was fully awake, but he still kept his eyes lightly closed and his breathing long and steady to feign sleep. He wanted to go back to sleep; he had been having a dream about the Greil Mercenaries, a group he missed more than he thought he ever would. They had known nothing about him but now he realized that they had always accepted him despite his bitterness, bluntness, and condensation. Of course here in the Branded colony people accepted him but he was also another one of their kind. It was only natural for the pariahs of society to stick together, in fact it was necessary for survival. But before, during the wars and his stint as a mercenary, people had accepted him, even people like Ranulf, Skrimir, and Nasir, whom he was pretty sure knew what he was. And they hadn't ousted him from the army or ignored him like most Laguz would; in fact, he could say the Skrimir might have been a friend. It was hard to believe that he had been so blinded by hate and past abuses that he didn't see how people had changed.

"Soren! I swear if you do not get up right now I will smack you!"

Soren groaned for a second time. It was Elle. It was just his luck that the most annoying, loud, screechy person in the whole colony would decide to come wake him up. He needed awhile to get up and to wake up and he was not in the mood to be hurled out of bed and go do something stupid or foolish like eating breakfast. Food was gross.

SMACK!

He shot up in bed, moving his hand to his cheek which was tender and stinging from Elle vicious slap. His reflection in the mirror across from his bed showed a skinny, messy little mage with black hair who had a red handprint blazoned on his face. Soren looked over at Elle who was currently laughing her head off, clutching her stomach with tears rolling down her face. Soren growled and she looked up, immediately backing up and ceasing her laughter, her mocking eyes wide. He smiled the most sadistic grin he could, pointed at her, and uttered a phrase in the ancient language, summoning a gust of wind. She dashed out of the room, and Soren thought that he had missed her, but when the door slammed shut from the gust and he heard a yelp, he grinned. He had always wanted to kick somebody out on their butt.

Rolling slowly out of bed, Soren rubbed his eyes, trying to get the sleepiness out of them. He stumbled over to his robes laying in a heap behind his small dresser and picked them up, sliding them on. It was not time to go to work, but he guessed that if Elle came to wake him up than it was important if only because Elle liked to sleep for about fifteen hours each day. He swore that all she did was sleep and eat. Soren began to trudge over to the door until he realized that he had left his Elwind tome on dresser beside his bed. Flopping on the pile of sheets atop his mattress, he pulled himself to the small dresser and grabbed his tome, quickly flipping through the pages. They were worn and the ink was beginning to get smudgy, so he decided that later in the day he would get a new one. Taking a deep breath, for the second time that day (already two times too much), Soren rolled off his bed, walked to the door and went outside, slamming his door shut. Elle stood in front of him, Stefan right behind her, and Hesper leaned against the wall across the hall.

"Don't you dare do that again, Soren. There will be consequences." Elle tried to say threateningly, but the comic glint in her eye caused her desired effect to epically fail.

She was standing awfully close to him, so just to push her buttons he narrowed his eyes and slowly pushed her away from him. She just crossed her arms and raised one eyebrow as if to say 'bring it on'. Stefan stood behind her smiling, but his grin didn't reach his eyes. He looked drawn and worried, like another atrocity had happened.

There had been quite a lot recently, starting ever since Elle had gotten attacked by the amuka uren'not. Later that day, a tunnel had collapsed right outside the Great Hall, shutting off half of the colony. Luckily it hadn't blocked the garden or his room, but Soren knew that now things would be much more cramped, not to mention the people who were living beyond the collapsed tunnel had not yet returned to the rest of the colony. Everyone assumed the worst. Then the next day, the garden and apothecary were sabotaged. Someone had set fire to the small patch of tomatoes that were ripe and ready to be picked, leaving the colony without vegetables for at least another week until the next crop was ready. Then someone had broken into the apothecary and broke all of the physician's staves and scattered her medicinal herbs everywhere. Soren had been down there for the past two days helping her pick and trying to fix her staves. Some had been salvageable, but the restore staff was broken which meant that if the amuka uren'not decided to attack…it was too horrible to even contemplate. The only good thing that had come out of it was that Soren had become friends with the physician after he got over her amuka uren'not like looks.

Hesper leaned up against the wall, once again seemingly uninterested in anything that was going on around him. Soren had found out that he was like Sothe, who used knives to fight and could pick locks and pick pockets, which just made him even more suspicious of him. Apparently, at every single incident that had happened over the past few days, he had been the first one there, crying for help and assisting in minimizing the damage. Soren thought that he might be cause of all the problems, but the people loved him now and idolized him. If he was behind everything, it was a clever, sneaky ruse and Soren was waiting for him to seize power from Stefan. It was the only logical reason as to why he suddenly wanted the support of the general populace.

"Okay, now that Soren is finally ready, we can head over to the wise woman." Stefan said, marching off. The rest of them followed him, Soren walking quickly to catch up to Stefan and talk to him privately.

"Why are we going to the wise woman? What's so important about her?" Soren asked, as he had not yet followed the physician's advice of talking to the wise woman about the amuka uren'not. However, everyone in the colony sung her praises and said that she was the only one capable of miracles. He was skeptical; the only other time he had seen such fanaticism was around Micaiah, the Maiden of Dawn.

"She can see things. The future, the past, into a person's soul. And she has many other powers that none of us know about. Look, Soren. I need to talk to her, and you know why. Things have been falling apart around here and I don't think that it's just a coincidence.", Stefan leaned in closer and whispered in Soren's ear, " Plus I want her to check out Hesper. He's…suspicious."

Soren simply looked to Stefan and nodded his agreement. Hesper was indeed very suspicious. He knew nothing about the rogue's past, or even what country he hailed from. He had an accent that was very, very exotic though, it reminded Soren of high mountains and deep, expansive forests shrouded in mystery and darkness. It was strange too, that he held no resemblance toward anything Tellian. In fact, everything he did, including the way he walked, seemed foreign. And since he had just popped in out of nowhere, at least according to Elle, then maybe, just maybe…

"Hey! We're here! I am SOOO excited, I haven't seen the wise woman in ages! Aren't you excited Hesper? This is your first time!" Elle screeched, shaking Hesper back and forth.

"Actually, this is not my first time, and will not be any time. I will not bed an old woman in some dingy dungeon such as this one, so no I am not excited. If this is going to be some primal bacchanal, then I will be leaving, thank you very much." Hesper said icily, looking at the three of them with dead eyes.

"Whatever. You're a sicko." Elle said, rolling her eyes and walking in. Stefan glanced at Soren, who shrugged nonchalantly, and the green-haired swordsman walked in after Elle. Soren turned to Hesper, who was still staring at him with the same eyes.

"Come on, let's go inside. And if you run away or refuse to go in, I will turn on you and chop your greasy, shady, little body into a thousand pieces." Soren said, his voice low and threatening.

"Hmph. What an eloquent and subtle threat. And considering your magical prowess, I have no doubt you could play the butcher for a day. I suppose I have no choice but to acquiesce." Hesper said, slightly mockingly.

"Let's go." Soren responded deadpan, and motioned for Hesper to go in first.

After walking into the room, they were hit with the stench of musky fur, burning wood, and most of all, the stench of a dirty old woman. She sat in the middle of the rock walled room, bundled up in a nest of furs next to a roaring fire. Her hair was a shiny blonde, looking exactly like pure spun gold, and her skin was so pale that it was almost translucent. Her eyes were the most shocking though; they were a grass green, the exact same shade as the royal heron siblings'. She looked up at them, her eyes wide and bright, and smiled hugely at Soren, her hands shaking with excitement.

"Ah! It has been so long since I last met one of you child! The dragons are so reclusive; we never see their Branded descendants anymore. O you are strong child, so very strong; I can feel it in the air! And such power is your ancestry…" the woman tittered, her voice high and moony.

Soren looked over at Stefan, but Stefan just shrugged. He guessed that the old woman was some kind of heron-blooded Branded who could see into people and find out their roots. He growled; no one was supposed to know about his heritage except for him and Pelleas, but now Hesper, Elle, Stefan, and this crazy old lady did. He hated his parents, and he had no wish to rule Daein like Pelleas did. He still remembered when Pelleas had told him, when he, Micaiah, and Soren had been in the Grann desert after Ashera's judgment. Since Micaiah's group was first attacked by the Disciples of Order, and almost wiped out, both Micaiah and Ike had joined forces and headed down to Sienne together. But Soren had taken Micaiah and Pelleas down to Grann, since they were both obviously Brandeds, he had felt it, to find Stefan and the colony and hopefully recruit them to their cause. But they had only found Stefan, and it was then that Pelleas told him of his heritage. He had stormed off, and had only come back to the group after three days.

Stefan laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey. Are you okay? It can be a major shock to find out where you came from, I know it was for me."

"I already knew." Soren said stiffly.

"Oh. Was that when that boy, what was his name, Pelleas, told you something in the desert and you disappeared? I bet its rough you know, to be related to dragons, I mean they are just so cold and distant." Stefan said, trying to make him feel better or at least establish some kind of mutual understanding, but Soren just whirled around at him, his red eyes blazing. Nobody else saw as they were too busy with the wise woman, but Stefan did shrink back a little.

"You have no idea! My father was the craziest, most demented man on Tellius. My mother is an obsessive dragon princess who is currently scouring the continent for me! Yeah, my parents are Ashnard and Almedha; you bet your ass that it is as hard as hell! I would have rather not known!" Soren whispered to Stefan furiously, trying to get as much rage out as possible.

"At least you know that one of your parents will love you! When my Brand appeared, my parents threw me out onto the streets of Sienne and then told their neighbors to hunt me down and do whatever they want with me. I had a ransom placed on my head! And then I find out that the taboo relationship was over six hundred years ago, and that the damn Laguz who started my life of pain and suffering was Soan! One of the threes heroes who defeated Yune! If that is not hard and confusing and completely unfair, then I don't know what is. So get over it Soren. It could be worse."

Soren glared at him, but turned back to the wise woman. She was beckoning Hesper closer and he listened to her, stooping down on his haunches next to her. Her eyes went wide and her body went rigid after she touched his hand. She stayed like this for a minute, then her bright green eyes began to glaze over and her body began to loosen and almost deflate. The wise woman looked weak and defeated and when she began to talk, it came out a wimpy mutter. Soren didn't exactly know what she was doing but he guessed that when she started babbling it would be about whatever she was seeing about Hesper's past.

"Ah! Foreign, foreign lands, they come to me from you child…I see an island of sand but it is not your home no, no, just where you work, yes but none know that, none now except me, yes, yes. Horses! Horses! Thundering hooves upon the ground, the ground rumbles with speed, power, hate, loneliness…a ring of mountains surrounds the sea of trees in the ocean of water, alone, left alone because of hate, it is your childhood, this is your home. Long journeys across the sea, the ocean, the sky, salt in your hair, wind in your mouth, water on your face. Betrayal. It is your future, it is you, you are lies, lies are your life, you are sneaky, clever, bad, sabotage! Evil. Evil is you, evil is your master, it is your medicine, your death. Evil, trickery, lust, hate, tyranny, murder, rape…BACK AWAY FROM ME DEMON!"

She ended on a scream, clenching Hesper's hand tight and then swinging him, leaving him to fly across the room. He would have broken his neck, but he managed to roll at the last minute and end up on his feet. His face was completely white and for the first time he looked scared. Hesper looked around wildly at Soren, Elle, and Stefan, and then sprinted out of the room, taking a left and supposedly heading to the Great Hall. Stefan motioned for Elle to chase after Hesper, which she did at a sprint, matching the escapee's speed, and then he knelt down beside the wise woman.

"Bianca. Are you okay? I have never seen you do that before.", he said worriedly.

"Oh child, you have always been a good one. Kind and caring, yet that is not something you got from your ancestors. Go Soanevalcke, and be wary. You may not find yourself in good hands."

He nodded and ran out of the room, hurrying after Elle and Hesper. Soren began to leave as well, glad to leave the musty, stinky, hot room. Breakfast sounded nice right now, as after listening to the wise woman crazily rant had been exhausting, if not eerie and haunting. He was now more and more suspicious of Hesper, and where he was from. Horses? What did they have to do with anything? Before he passed under the doorway, the wise woman called out to him.

"Wait, child! I must speak to you."

"What?", he asked, turning around angrily. He wanted to leave.

"Child we must talk. I have seen your future."

"I doubt that."

"Your father was the mad king, your mother the mad dragon princess. Don't believe me now? Well I don't care, I will tell you anyways. You must stand up for what you believe in. Child, you can't let that man that was just in here win, got it? He must not take control! And you WILL fulfill your birthright, child, and you must do it without hesitation and with brutality. Your time for heroism will come. Give in to your hate, let it consume you. You will redeem yourself eventually. Now go! The battle draws nigh!"

He moved to leave, and then stopped. He was intrigued by where she came from. Lehran was supposed to have been the only heron to mate with a human child, at least according to Sephiran, so that would mean that this woman here would have to have been the apostle once.

"Where are you from woman? You and I both know that the heron Brandeds only come from the line of the apostle. So which one are you?"

"Child, there is so much you don't know. I have traveled far and wide, both in my mind and on foot. The line split at the beginning child, the apostle is not the only one who can hear the heavens. Now go! The survival of Tellius rests in your hands!"

Soren gave her one last weird look, and then took off. The Great Hall was not far away, and he thought he heard a loud commotion coming from there. By the time he rounded the last bend in the tunnel (it was an especially curvy one), a crowd had already gathered. They surrounded Stefan, Elle, and a couple of others and although they were relatively civilized, Soren could detect an undercurrent of anger. He ran up to the middle of the crowd and squeezed his way through until he was right behind the people in the front. Hesper was leading them.

"Dear little Stefan," he said, cool, calm, and confident, "you are so very unobservant. You ask us what you have been doing wrong; have you not seen how this colony has been the past few days? It's a mess. And I won't lie, you have ruled here for many years and even founded this safe haven, but the people feel that it is time for a change of pace. Someone new, they say, something fresh. So we all are just here to ask you to step down. Face it, it's time Stefan."

Stefan was clenching and unclenching his hands which Soren knew meant he was angry. Elle had a reassuring hand laid on his shoulder, gently squeezing it.

"You! Nobody even knows who you are! You can't just walk in her, pretend to like me, and then try and take my position! Do you have any idea how much I have gotten this colony through? A hell of a lot more than you could! So I am telling YOU to step down and get…"

A beefy man with a massive lance had stepped forward and held the tip at Stefan's neck. He audibly gulped, and the majority of the crowd around Soren smirked. He had no idea what to do, but he had to stop this somehow. Gah! It was like his brain had taken leave and was off wandering the world!

"Now, now Stefan, don't make us use force. The people have asked me to be their leader, and of course one can only listen to their people's demands! But I will not have disobedient men under my command so Stefan, it would be safest for you to step down and give in. It's for the best really. Just let me assume command peacefully and easily."

Soren growled. This man was a master of manipulation and of words. Even to Soren's ears, Hesper had made Stefan sound like an idiot even though Stefan was in the right and Hesper was being…well he had no idea what the hell Hesper was being. What had the wise woman told him? To stand up for what he believed in. Well, when it came to ruling a group of people, he, like Ike (and the Laguz, although he was loathe to admit it), felt that only the strongest should rule. So in that case…

"Now, now, now Hesper, let's not be so rash." Soren said condescendingly, "We can't just let ANYBODY be ruler! That preposterous! I mean look at all these Beorc countries; they rule by blood and not skill and look at how weak they are! Do we really want to be like that?"

The people around Soren began to nod in assent, and he smiled. He was playing on their pride and their feeling of superiority over the common human. They would back him up.

"I say that since some people want Stefan to rule, and some want you to rule, Hesper, than you guys should fight for it. A battle, with real weaponry, and whoever wins gets to rule the colony. It's fair right? No rules, no restrictions, no nothing except your weapons, your clothing, and your body. Now that's a real assessment of someone's skill!"

The people began to clap and cheer. Soren guessed that he had some skill at politics or that these people were just very easy to convince and to change their minds. Hesper had stepped forward and unsheathed his knife, Stefan shrugging off Elle's hand and drawing his sword. He looked and Soren gratefully, and Soren nodded back. Hesper was sneering, the physician looked confused, the wise woman had come to watch (he could smell her stench), and Elle looked excited, shocked, and scared all at the same time. At this point the crowd was cheering, stomping their feet, and yelling so loud that Soren could not even hear his own thoughts. He looked darkly towards the two fighters, the both of them in fighting stance and just waiting to lash out at the other. Soren realized, in the blink of an eye, that this event would define the rest of his life, and that this was his turning point, that everything would stem from here. He muttered three words, so soft that no one could hear them except him.

"Let it begin."

* * *

><p><strong>I hope you liked it! Now first off, just a few things. <strong>

**I forgot to mention this last chapter, but the olivi grass enhances the Laguz aspects of the Branded. So (look back to chapter 3), Elle got better eyesight and glowing eyes because she is descended from cats, Soren got physically stronger because of his dragon heritage, etc. **

**Second, I said in the first author's note that I would be changing some things from the game. Well they showed up in this chapter. So I will give a quick explanation. First off, Aimee didn't get turned to stone but the rest of her convoy did during Ashera's judgment leading to her epiphany (will come later). Soren, Micaiah, and Pelleas went to the Grann to recruit Stefan by themselves (just so the character's would have better knowledge of the other's personality). Lastly, Sephiran and Lehran in this fic are NOT the same person. I will elaborate on this a LOT later but for now it is important to remember that. **

**Thirdly, Ike makes his return next chapter! Yeah!**

**Lastly, my inspiration for Bianca, the Branded wise woman, came from the Hybrid from Battlestar Galactica. Yeah, I'm a nerd, get used to it. ;P**

**So I hope you liked it, and the next chapter will be out by next Sunday. I promise! (You can hold me to it.)**


	5. A New Direction

**Author's Note: Hey, sorry y'all for being a week and a half late, both of the computers in my house crashed and they just got back online today. But, I have decided that I am for sure continuing on with this story (yeah!) and that the first part (Chapters 1 thru 13) will be done by the end of February 2012. I am no longer going to give deadlines for each chapter because I never come through. I'm more of a long-term guy instead of a short-term. So on with the story! I hope you enjoy! **

**Review Responses: I don't know if this is necessary to know but I am going to say it anyways. Within the next few chapters, the plots in this fic will escalate rapidly, so if anybody is confused about characters, or plots, or any other aspect, now would be the time to ask. Also, all of this mystery will be pretty much laid out within the next four-five chapters (at least the Daein arc) so things will no longer be confusing! If they ever were.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Fire Emblem or Intelligent Systems. **

* * *

><p><em>A New Direction<em>

He stepped off the wet, wooden plank onto the hard packed dirt of the shoreline, the sea breeze ruffling his royal blue hair and stinging his nose. Finally! After two months of being on a rocking hunk of wood, rolling from wave to wave and never being able to find stable footing, Ike had finally found his way to solid ground. The things that he wanted to do most right now was fall to his knees and kiss the ground, to praise the goddesses, and to most of all, walk away from that boat and never come back. But that was not possible; he was only at Asmin, the island duchy of the late Duke Hetzel. He sighed. There was still another three weeks to a month before the boat reached Hatari, at least that was what the captain believed. They had only stopped for a day to restock on supplies, and to find some mercenaries to protect them once they reached the foreign land. Ike had said that he was skilled and strong enough to keep the whole crew safe but…the captain had been extremely devoted to the Senate. No man could turn down the high payment that Ike had given the captain, but the man was obviously bitter over how Ike assisted in bringing down the corrupt governing body. Essentially, the captain tried to demean him and his accomplishments at every possible opportunity.

According to one of the deck hands, the farthest Begnion ships had bothered to search for foreign lands was a bend in the coastline of Begnion approximately a week ago. Supposedly, the area was riddled with volcanoes and lava beds, and for miles around, the ocean was flaming hot and the water a burning red, frightening any ships from even approaching the area. Between the highest, coldest mountains, the flaming bend, and the Death Desert, to Ike it seemed that the goddess had seen it fit to keep Eastern Tellius closed off from the rest of the world. But as much as he didn't want to get back on the ship, he wanted even more to see Hatari, to see the rest of Tellius, to discover new lands and new people. He wanted to drown out his old life, to banish his problems and memories and run away from it all. He was a coward.

To be blunt, Ike was disgusted with himself. The fact that he had run away from all that he loved, had left Mist, Titania, and the mercenaries to fend for themselves was appalling and completely unacceptable. But he had done it, and now there was no turning back. Ike had run because he couldn't make a choice, couldn't decide who was the most important to him; Soren or Elincia. The life of a mercenary or a traveler, simply roaming the world, or that of a king; those had been the two paths in front of him, both of them well traveled, but both of them bringing a great responsibility to himself and to others. It was too daunting, so instead he had plunged into the untamed brush and made his own path, a trail of cowardice and failure. The road of weaklings, not warriors.

But it was still the right choice, especially for the place he was at now. Ike may have been in his twenties, and he may have grown out of his innocent childhood many, many moons ago, but he was still not ready to take on responsibility. At least in a certain aspect. He could take control of armies and defeats hordes of evil, he could draw a sword and run it through the misguided goddess of the known world, he could take credit for rescuing an entire country from the brink of destruction, but he could not find it within himself to take responsibility for his own feelings. Sometimes it was as if he no longer cared about how he felt and only wanted the best for others, no matter the cost. Choices had always been tough for him to make, and to choose between two people and hurt the one that was left behind in the dirt pained him beyond all imagining. It was inconceivable for him anymore to inflict harm upon others, upon those whom he cared for; he had been through enough wars and torn enough families apart to simply cause the same pain again. But the fact that he had perhaps inflicted more damage by leaving everyone behind never crossed his mind.

A hand clapped him on the back and Ike stiffened a little bit, unnerved by the touch. One of the deck hands walked past him and onto the street, whistling some sailing ditty and snapping his fingers. The man stopped and turned around, realizing that he had just playfully smacked the strongest and perhaps most dangerous man on the continent. Ike recognized him as one of the few sailors whom supported Sanaki and condemned the Senate, and for that he was glad. Sometimes the tension was so dense on the ship it almost felt as if there were looming brick walls always surrounding him. He would do anything just to get someone friendly on the freaking wooden boat.

"Hey man, you look down. Come on, we're finally on land!" the deck hand said, a broad grin on his face.

"I'm fine." Ike responded.

"Okay, now don't be such a downer! We're in a town man! That means booze, brawls, and best of all, broads! Come on, let's go catch some tail, if ya get what I mean!"

Ike just shook his head and walked past the man, shoving him out of his way. He didn't understand how come sailors were always so crude and unrefined; he himself wasn't suffering from cabin fever, albeit the ship kind, he was suffering from being an absolute failure! It was impossible to think of partying and sex at such a time, not to mention he had never really been into that stuff. He felt that losing yourself in revelry was akin to letting go of you heart and mind, letting your body take over. And that could be dangerous, Ike knew. It was essentially how his father killed his mother, through an absence of the heart and soul. That damn medallion had sucked it right out of his father, and he was damned if he was going to do the same thing to himself voluntarily.

"Oh come on!", the man called after him, "If you're not gonna party, then at least drown your sorrows away man! There's a shady little shack for guys just like that down the alley to your left."

Despite the man's suggestion, Ike walked right past the dingy alley, its walls lined with grime and the street filled with garbage. It seemed to be that Hetzel had not exactly been the best ruler of his own home if the state of the town was to hold any significance. Although he had only been walking through it for no more than a minute, he could tell that it was run-down and poor, the inhabitants slinking around in dirty, gray rags with skinny arms and poking chest cavities. The irresponsibility of the Begnion senators had always disgusted him and to see such a town in such a horrible condition made him furious. This was a harbor town; it should be bustling, full of life and healthy strong people lugging cargo off of ships and building an ever-growing assortment of inns and pubs and brothels. But his ship was the only one in the harbor which was in fact no more than a street paved all the way up to the water.

But maybe the sailor had been right. Perhaps he did need to drown his sorrows away in a hearty glass of ale, lose himself for a night, and try to forget his cowardly ways. With that in mind, Ike turned down the next alley and picked his way through all the trash and waste, hoping to find at least one crummy bar. When he saw a couple men go staggering by him, he knew that he was in luck as it was painfully obvious that they were drunk out of their minds. With renewed vigor, he set off to find this bar for the sad and lonely, a haven for men just like him. After a few more turns, Ike finally found the bar at the bottom of some stairs, dwarfed by the tall stone buildings surrounding it. It was made of rotting, leaning wood, and lay at the bottom of what looked like a drainage area for the sewers. In the courtyard in front of the establishment, if it could even be called that, lay a huge grate, and throughout out the numerous stone walls surrounding the bar jutted out a variety of drainage pipes. Ike wrinkled his nose and hurried in through the flimsy wooden door and into the bar.

He was hit with the stench of strong liquor and smelly men, most of them big, brutish guys sitting silently at the ends of the bar, talking quietly among themselves. A skinny sallow man sat in front of the bartender, chatting ceaselessly to him about how horrible his wife was and how she left him and what was up with that because he was good in bed and how that bitch could rot in hell for all he cared. Ike looked around and saw that the only other patron was a man of a slight but strong build, his brown hair sticking up all over the place, and his yellow shirt stretched tight underneath what looked to be the leather pauldron of an archer. Ike walked up and sat down next to him.

"What's your drink tonight?" the bartender asked Ike.

"Pint of black wheat ale." Ike said gruffly.

The bartender simply raised an eyebrow and grabbed a glass out from underneath the counter, pouring extremely dark liquid into it and handing it to Ike. He took a sip and tried to prevent himself from grimacing. Black wheat ale was pretty much the strongest drink you could find on Tellius, and was extremely popular in Begnion, at least among the people of the lower class. The aristocracy preferred to stick to their mild, delicate wines.

"Start off strong, huh? Very impressive I must say, but I wouldn't challenge any of the boys around here to a contest. They can down five of those in a few minutes, you'd be crushed.", the yellow-clad archer said.

"Good to know." Ike responded, just as curtly and coldly as when he talked to the bartender.

"Oh."

They lapsed into silence both of them slowly sipping their drinks. It was oddly quiet for a bar, so Ike guessed that he had picked the right place with the right mood for him; a run-down, sketchy, peaceful little place where all the nobodies and scum of society went. Which confused him as to why this yellow-clad archer was here. He seemed very…sociable.

"My name's Glenn.", he said, sticking out his hand and Ike shook it.

"Mine's Ike.", he said back, but only out of manners. Mist had taught him that. But he still didn't want to talk, only to mope in his own pity.

"So…why are you here?" Glenn asked.

"What?" Ike responded, only out of courtesy.

"Well, I mean, come on! You don't come to some hole-in-the-wall like this unless for some reason. Like look at all these people! Well first of all, there's hardly anybody here but those who are here are all sad or depressed or so down that they don't even look alive! So what sorrows bring you to this lovely spot of heaven? I promise that I'll tell you mine."

"You first. What brings you here?" Ike asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Well, well, well. I guess you don't trust me. Hmm, how unfortunate. You know I don't have to tell you my story. I'll just be right here when you want to know, I don't need to know your story, goddess knows I've heard enough sob stories."

"Fine then." Ike said.

Another long silence fell between them, yet it brought no awkwardness or animistic tension. Just a sort of nonchalant peace.

"OK! I'll tell you why I am here in this lame excuse of a bar. But you have to promise that you'll tell me your story! Or can you not do that?"

Ike just nodded and tried to repress a grin but somewhat failed, the corners of his mouth tilting up. Glenn kind of reminded him of Ranulf, the same goofy and mouthy personality manifesting itself into a Beorc instead of a cat Laguz. But Glenn seemed slightly more somber and grave, as if he had known true pain and sorrow and was only trying to mask it with a grin.

"Well, it's really quite simple you know. My girlfriend broke up with me about a week ago and I've been here ever since. I was going to propose and then she broke up with me because she was in love with another man. It's good that she did it before I proposed or else that would have been embarrassing. The whole 'oh I can't marry you, I'm in love with another man, but it's not you, it's me, I'm so sorry, I just don't love you'. I bet it happens all the time right?" Glenn said, but he had taken on a somber tone. "It's just kind of depressing you know, to be let down and rejected, to lose those that you love."

"I know what you mean."

"Oh. Really? How?" Glenn asked, a little shocked.

"I…I lost my father, and my mother, and a lot of friends and companions. I have seen the horrors of war and wreaked destruction upon people, torn apart their love through death wrought by my hands." Ike took a breath and let loose a deep sigh; he was letting his emotions get the best of him, "But I have left loved ones behind as well. I have rejected them."

"Oh. I would like to hear more. Not to be callous or anything."

"I…I am from Crimea. And I came here to search for lands beyond Tellius, maybe Hatari or some other country. But that is only part of the reason." Ike took a deep breath; it was now or never. "I left because I was torn between two people. I couldn't decide who to choose, who to love. One of them was my best friend, someone I had trusted my whole life and the other…she was special. We were close, but it was always more than just friends. We were together for a while but wars tore us apart. I just couldn't decide. I am a coward."

"Hey man! Don't be so hard on yourself! You know I was stuck between two girls once, and of course I chose wrong, I picked my girlfriend and she ended up being unfaithful. But I mean you never know unless you try right?"

"Yes. But I wasn't stuck between two girls." Ike said simply and bluntly.

"Oh. Hey man, I'd keep quiet about that. I mean I'm not judging but things are different here in Begnion. I know how in Crimea and Daein they don't care about that type of stuff, like they don't even see anything wrong with it but here…I don't know man. Just keep it under wraps. What was so hard to decide between them?" Glenn spoke, not in the least flustered.

"Well, uh. The guy, Soren, was my tactician and staff officer. I was the commander of a group of sellswords called the Greil Mercenaries. And the girl was…"

"Ok buddy, out with it! You can't just leave me hanging! She is obviously somebody important! Spit it out!" Glenn said, his eyes sparkling and broad grin across his face.

"She is Queen Elincia."

"Oh! Oh snap! Praise the goddess! Man you shoot for the top, you go for it all! And you said that you guys had a relationship for a while? Dang man, you're crazy." Glenn said, pleasantly surprised.

"So now you see my dilemma?" Ike asked hopefully.

"Yeah, yeah man, I get it. You either wanna be a king or you don't, and then she's in the way and you can't decide what's more important. Then there's your best friend in the way who you suddenly have feelings for and…I bet it's complicated."

"Yeah. It is. And I just want time to step back and think about it all."

"It's a good idea. I mean your story is ten times better than this guy's! Ain't that right buddy?"

Glenn turned to the sallow man beside him and playfully punched him on the arm, a broad grin spread across his face. But the man turned around and glared at Glenn, drawing back and clutching his glass. He was angry; it was visible by the way his face was painfully contorted and his eyes narrowed and sparking.

"Hey! Whoa there! It was just a joke, chill down!" Glenn said, raising his hands and backing up, his eyes wide, "I don't want to cause any trouble man!"

The man got up and advanced on Glenn, coming to a stop right in front of him and glaring down at him. The man was repeatedly clenching his fists, his eyes were twitching, and visible yet subtle tremors ran throughout his body, shaking the cowlick atop his head. It seemed as if he would lose his cool at any moment.

"One such as you should not make such idle comments and jokes like that.", the man said threateningly, his eyes narrowed and voice coming out gravelly and ominous.

"Whoa. Snap. Man, I don't even know what you said but it sounded just as weird and melodramatic as always. Now I don't care what you say, I can say any joke when I want to you…" Glenn started, but was swiftly interrupted by a solid right hook to the face, specifically to the nasal region.

Glenn staggered back from the blow and practically fell right onto Ike sitting on the stool behind him. Both of them were wide eyed and open mouthed, shocked that the man who had previously seemed so wimpy had the gall to start a bar fight. But then Glenn snarled and leapt forward at the man, his face now just as contorted as the other man and his fists flying. He tackled the man to the ground and began to punch him over and over again in the face, his knuckles turning red from the blood flying from the man's face and from the blood dripping from his own nose. Each hit rang out in the now silent bar and out of the blue, one of Glenn's hits to the man's jaw warranted a loud crack. He stopped punching and went wide-eyed, realizing just how much damage he had done to the man; his jaw was now oddly bent, bruises and cuts covered his face, and already one of his eyes was swelling up rapidly. It looked like he had just been trampled by a horse. But the man took Glenn's momentary pause out of shame to his advantage.

Using the sole power of his abdomen, the man pulled his torso up and landed a square punch right to the middle of Glenn's stomach. Glenn doubled over in pain and gasped for air, as the hit had blown it all out of him. But he had no time to recover. The man grabbed him by the shoulders and managed to fling Glenn across the room, leaving him to rest against a wall with lidded eyes and an open mouth. He then got up, his bruised and bloody face like that of a demon's, and walked quickly over to Glenn. He kicked him again in the stomach, but Glenn was so tired that he barely reacted other than bending over his stomach slightly. Glenn's legs were spread out wide and the man took the position to his position; he nailed Glenn right in the nuts. Glenn suddenly seemed alive again with his eyes incredibly wide and his mouth in a perfect 'O' of pain. The man simply took a few steps back and laughed maniacally and the bar burst into noise.

"Hey! Not a fair hit! Get that cheater outta here!", one of the burly men at the far end of the counter said, shaking his fists.

"Oh hell NO! We are gonna kick this boy's ass for playing dirty! This is a nice establishment!", one of his friends said, heading toward the sallow man.

"Yeah! Let's get 'em boys!" said the first burly man, and they charged upon the man.

The bar broke out into a massive fight, with all the customers taking various sides and hitting each other. Ike thought he heard a couple true, screeching screams of pain, but he paid them no mind; he had seen and heard much worse on the battlefield. He couldn't decide if he should get Glenn out of there or not; he liked the guy but he didn't know if they were close enough yet to start caring for one another. But he decided to throw caution to the wind and take care of the guy, even if it was only for one night, as he had to leave on the ship the next morning. Ike weaved in and out of the brawling mass of people, avoiding punches, grabs, and slaps while looking for Glenn. Apparently a few men had heard the ruckus from the street, as there was definitely more people in the bar now then there had been when he had arrived. At last he spotted Glenn and hurried over to him, picking up his surprisingly heavy and muscular body—considering his size—and headed over to the door.

When Ike rushed out the door, he was immediately met with an almost unbearable stench and he for sure knew now without a doubt that he was staring at a drainage basin for the city. Endless gallons of liquid, and solid, waste poured out from the pipes jutting out from the nearby buildings and a small pond of sewage lay in front of him, a small whirlpool in the very center. He made haste up a small ramp along one of the stone walls, avoiding the streams of sewage spewing out from the pipes, and managed to escape the grotesque courtyard with no trash on his clothes or on Glenn at all. The only place Ike knew to take the poor guy was to the ship, so he headed to the left once he hit the small back alley and proceeded to search for a way out of the labyrinth of narrow streets and rotting walls. When he finally hit one of the larger streets, it turned out that the ship was right in front of him, the captain standing diligently at the bottom of the ramp. Ike sped up and stopped in front of the captain, only slightly out of breath. The captain looked him and Glen up and down, and then raised an eyebrow.

"Do I want to know?" the coal haired man asked, his mustache quivering with repressed laughter.

"May I come aboard?" Ike asked bluntly.

"Sure! Why not? You dished out the gold for it! But first you gotta tell me what for. Just because." the captain responded.

"Where are the medical supplies?" Ike asked patiently, fed up with the man's caustic tone after only a few seconds.

"Oh! Poor thang! Did your little boyfriend get into a nasty fight?" the captain cackled, throwing his head back and shaking his hair back and forth.

Ike pushed past him, a snarl of pure anger and wrath on his face, and entered the ship at a brisk trot. He headed for the stairs leading below decks and thankfully saw no one, as if he did there would be a lot of explaining to do. After taking a few turns, he barged into his room where he remembered that he had left a couple vulneraries, which was more than enough to heal up Glenn's wounds. He laid him down on the thin, rickety bed, then briskly opened up his mouth and poured the vulnerary in. Glenn began to start coughing and almost spit the medicine back out but he managed to swallow it and sit up. Within a few seconds, the effects of the vulnerary were already beginning to take effect; all he had after all was a broken nose. Glenn smiled mischievously at Ike.

"I told you Begnions were assholes about that type of stuff."

"Huh? What're you talking about?" Ike said, perplexed with wrinkled eyebrows and a scrunched up face at which Glenn began to laugh at.

"Hahaha! Stop! You look like a tortoise! And you know, what the captain was talking about…"

"Oh. Oh yeah."

Another short spell of silence lapsed in between them, but this time it was more brief and less awkward than the quiet moments had been in the bar.

"So…is the ship leaving tomorrow?" Glenn asked.

"Yeah. Do you want me to help you back home now? Because I have no idea how early we are setting off and…" Ike said, a little cautionary. He really wanted Glenn to stay on the ship, even though it sounded crazy and he hardly knew the man.

"Nah. I think I'm gonna travel with you man. I mean, my girlfriend took the apartment, and I don't have a job anymore, so I got nothing to do. I know it's crazy and all, and that I hardly know you, but you saved my butt back there man! Plus you had a really tight story! So, is this cool?"

"Yeah. It's cool." Ike said, his hopes brought to life. Finally, after two months of painful solitude, and after leaving everyone behind, he had somebody back in his life.

* * *

><p>"Loyd! Loyd! What are we going to do?"<p>

Aimee rushed after Loyd as he quickly walked out of the bar, giving a quick wave to Frank the bartender as she left. Loyd's creepy employer had just told them how they had to go to Felirae, fight FOR the rebellion, and then kill two innocent (she was sure) mercenaries for no reason whatsoever. She wasn't sure which one was scarier; going into enemy territory, into the arms of the late Lord Felirae's servants, or assassinating two people. It was dangerous nonetheless and if the both of them were found out, then they would be dead so fast that she wouldn't even have time to blink. So she had decided that maybe it would be best to not even go at all and run away with Loyd, avoiding the world and duty and responsibility, just living a quiet, peaceful life at some seaside cottage. But that wasn't going to happen and she knew it; she just hadn't accepted it yet.

By the time Aimee caught up to the blue-caped man, they were both in the crowded marketplace again but it seemed like the throng of people had somewhat died down. She guessed that they were all tired after a day of bartering and fighting and bargaining and just wanted to go home. But she really, really hoped that the poor girl dressed in light blue armor and her red-robed friend were long gone. Aimee couldn't take seeing the people that she was meant to kill right now, or else she would lose her nerve. She couldn't believe herself; here she was, plotting out how she should steel herself to kill two perfectly fine-looking people! But despite all her doubt, apprehension, and horror, no matter how hard Aimee tried she still felt a little excited to go out and unleash all of her pent up anger, sadness, and frustration on somebody. It was disgusting and oddly exhilarating at the same time, and for the first time, she wondered if she was more like Loyd than she thought. It had always made sense that they would be complete opposites but with the thoughts running through her head…she just didn't know and didn't want to think about it.

Loyd was swerving in and out of the throng of shoppers, and Aimee had no time to contemplate her situation any further unless she wanted to lose him for the second time that day. So she cleared her mind of any doubts and hesitations and simply focused on keeping up with her assassin, and now, her companion. They turned down a side street and Aimee found herself in another seedy and sketchy neighborhood in Melior. She sighed. Was it impossible for Loyd to actually go somewhere decent for once? Like honestly, she was beginning to grow tired of bars and hovels and brothels, and she had only been to one!

"Loyd!", she said sharply, "Where are we going and what are we doing? We aren't seriously going to go to Felirae right?"

Loyd turned to look at her, his blue eyes focused into bright, searing points, the intensity pouring out of him like a jet of water from a fountain. Aimee was more than a little shocked; she had never seen him like this, not even when he had killed the Lord and Lady Felirae.

"We are going to stock up on weapons. And yes, we are seriously going to Felirae."

"Why?", she asked, looking down at his waist and at his three knives hanging off his belt. "You seem to have enough weaponry right there."

"Not for me. For you."

"What! You are kidding me right? I don't know how to fight! I'm just a shopkeeper." Aimee said, incredulous.

"Then how do you plan on looking like a mercenary? In that raggy pink dress?" Loyd said, his eyebrows raised.

Aimee opened her mouth and then closed it shut. She didn't know what to say. She wasn't skilled in any art of war and for all she knew, had no hidden talent for magic. So she remained quiet and didn't say anything.

"That's what I thought. Now you don't have any magical talents do you?", Loyd asked.

"No."

"Okay then. I have an idea. Follow me."

They continued to walk down the side street, taking a variety of turns through the back alleys covered with grime. Buildings surrounded the alleys, their white stone facades rearing up around the pair and casting what should be a sunny area of town into shadow. However as they moved on, the buildings got a dirtier and dirtier, the stone walls soon becoming wood, and the wood soon becoming rotted. However, just up ahead, Aimee saw a squat stone building, smoke billowing out of the open doorway. Loyd looked back at Aimee and smiled.

"We're here."

They fell into the fiery haze and plunged through black smoke, groping their way beneath the doorway and into a large, open room. A large, beefy man stood there, a filthy apron hanging around his neck and resting atop his bare chest. He looked at the two of them and broke into a huge, toothy grin, his eyes flashing with excitement and recognition. Aimee inwardly groaned. How was it that Loyd knew so many shadowy people all over Melior? But as an assassin, and a spy most likely, she guessed that it was for the best that he had such shady contacts. They would need people to cover for them.

"Typhoon! You're here! What can I do for you today?", the beefy man exclaimed.

Loyd looked at Aimee, standing demurely in her tight and filthy dress. The previous light pink fabric had turned to a dark gray. Her hair was no longer smooth and silky, as it had been when he first saw her, but tangled, dull, and ratty. Grime covered her face, and her makeup was streaked. But she was still beautiful, even despite her mangy persona.

"Tell me. What type of warrior do you think this woman looks like?", Loyd asked.

The man laughed heartily.

"Well, let me tell you what she looks like! A shieldmaiden of the east, deadly in her beauty and in her sword arm."

"That's exactly what I thought. Do you have any armor to pull such a story off?" Loyd asked.

"Yep! I got just the thing. I'll be right back."

Aimee turned and looked at Loyd standing right next to her, his face framed by the hazy smoke permeating throughout the room. It made him look ominous.

"What's a shieldmaiden? And Typhoon? What's up with that?" Aimee asked, perplexed by all the many mysteries that surrounded Loyd.

"In eastern Begnion, where things are still very prejudiced, there exists an odd phenomenon with extremely skilled mercenaries. They find a beautiful woman and train her a little in the way of the sword, simply so they can seem lordly and more formidable. But the woman is usually no more than a slave girl, bound to the man by money and whether she wants to live or not. They ride into battle together, and in the presence of a shieldmaiden the couple's enemies usually flee in fear. These women are considered bad omens, vixens of destruction and death. But most importantly, they signify that the man riding with them is a powerful warrior."

"So I'm just around to make you look tough?" Aimee asked, a little angered. The compliment of her being pretty enough to be a shieldmaiden (even though she already knew she was beautiful) was thoughtful and nice, but to just be labeled as a compliment to Loyd was something that she did not like.

"No. Shieldmaidens aren't expected to fight, just to ride as a harbinger of suffering alongside their man. That's what you want right? Not to fight?" Loyd asked knowingly.

"Hmph. Fine then. But then what's this about Typhoon? The bartender called the others by the name of elements, so shouldn't you be like…water? Or Blue, like how Frank called Volke Brown?"

"No. The five of us assassins have changed our names over the years. When we were little, we didn't know each other's names so we named ourselves after colors. Years later, after we were all on our own, we met and started to name ourselves after the five elements. But when I was seventeen, we met again for the last time and called ourselves something new. I became Typhoon, Wind became Cyclone, Thunder kept her name, Fire called himself Inferno, and Volke…he didn't like the idea. So he told us that if we wanted to contact him, then we just had to ask for a 'fireman'."

"Oh. Well that's nice, I guess." Aimee said at a loss for words. What else was there to say? Whenever Loyd told her one of his stories, she always ended up not knowing how to respond. She just couldn't relate to his experiences.

"Yeah. They were never my favorite people, with the exception of Volke but…they were the only other people like me. I'll tell you the whole story sometime. Maybe after this whole Felirae business is over." Loyd said smiling. It lit up his face and softened his features a great deal, taking away his hard edge and making him look almost docile.

"Maybe someday I'll tell you my story." Aimee muttered softly and nonchalantly, but her heart was pounding and butterflies were filling up her stomach. What would he say? Would he even care? She didn't even know why she was nervous but she was, and it kind of worried her. It was true that she cared about Loyd, but to get this worried over something so foolish? Perhaps she truly was desperate.

"I'd like that." Loyd said, and Aimee's heart leapt and her soul soared.

The beefy man walked back into the room with a dress, if it could even be called that. It consisted of a small gray-green top, which would bare her stomach. Beneath it, connected by some thin leather straps, was a golden, thigh-high, skirt with a hem of fur. To top it all off, the man held a snow white cloak over his forearm. It looked very foreign and also very revealing, but Aimee liked it. Even looking at it made her feel strong, beautiful, and powerful, and there was no telling how she would feel when she wore the actual thing.

"Hey, you'd look good in this thing sweetie. Wanna try it on right here, right now?" the man asked.

Aimee shook her head and smiled. She had never been so excited to try on an article of clothing. It was as if this clothing was her very essence, like it completed her, made her whole. But she knew one thing was true. The former shopkeeper and former maid was looking at her destiny.

As a shieldmaiden.

* * *

><p>Sword and dagger clashed together in a furious meeting of steel upon silver. Hesper flipped backwards in order to avoid Stefan's impending counterattack, but was taken off guard when the tip of Stefan's sword caught his boot and caused him to land on his bottom instead of his feet. A sword swung at the fallen man to cleave him down the middle, a glint flashing off the silver blade from the sparkling minerals embedded in the cave walls, but Hesper managed to roll over to the side just in time to avoid the slash. Hesper leapt up to his feet and took a few steps back, twirling his dagger across the back of his palm and grinning evilly at Stefan. Stefan stepped forward menacingly, slashing his sword around in front of him.<p>

"Hahaha! You'll never get me! Poor little Stefan…you're fast, but you just don't have my speed." Hesper cackled, pausing the twirling of his dagger for just long enough to throw it up in the air.

Stefan stood at the other end, his shaggy green hair wet with sweat and plastered to his face, his mouth hanging slackly open while he gasped for air. Soren tried to hide his anger. The two men had so far been dueling for ten minutes, and the way things looked, Hesper would destroy Stefan within a few minutes. While the swordmaster looked like he was about to faint, Hesper calmly stood a few feet away and barely seemed tired. Which would be embarrassing, both for him, and for Stefan. Soren had put himself out there for Stefan and if he lost, than he, Soren, would look like an idiot as well as make Stefan look unable to even be worthy of the fabled Branded skill much less able to lead them.

Soren knew that supporting Stefan in such a public way had been risky, and could possibly bring disastrous consequences but…Stefan was important to him. Not in a special way like Elle or Ike, whom he had connected with and was for sure friends with, if not more, at least in Ike's case. Ike was easy to figure out; Soren owed him for saving his life, and somewhere along the way, Ike had become more than just a debt to be repaid, he had become a friend and even a little more. But his attraction to Elle was something entirely different. He had no debt to repay her. Yes, he had tried to kill her, but then he turned around and saved her life and now he put up with her grating, screechy, bipolar attitude every day. Why he continually hung around with her he had no idea but some unconscious, base instinct drew him to Elle, and whenever he was around her, he felt confused and awkward and things that made sense to him before all of a sudden got all jumbled up. Like Ike. If Soren was near the blonde-haired girl, any thoughts of Ike would just vanish, and around her, his feelings towards Ike seemed foolish and childish as if he really didn't like the muscle-bound man. But he tried not to think about it too much because not knowing things unnerved him.

And then there was Stefan. Soren owed Stefan greatly, dearly, and ever since their talk in the desert, Soren had promised himself that he would support and stand up for Stefan at any possible opportunity. After Ashera's judgment, Soren had taken both Micaiah and Pelleas into the Grann Desert to look for any Branded that had not been turned to stone. Naturally he had taken the other two mages because they were both Branded, although neither one seemed to realize this, or even detect that the three of them all shared the curse of a forbidden union. At least that was what he had thought.

On their fifth night in the Grann, Pelleas had come and talked to Soren in private, and told him that he, Pelleas, was not the true son of Almedha and Ashnard. Pelleas had said that even though he was a Branded, even if he hid it from everybody or just said it was a spirit's pact, he knew that he was too wimpy and weak to have both the blood of perhaps the strongest man in Tellius and the Black Dragon Princess. Soren had cared less, until Pelleas had suggested, no had **told** him that his parents were Ashnard and Almedha. He then went on to ramble something about how Soren's hair and eye color matched the black dragons', and how his intellect and raw power with magic must have something to do Ashnard's prowess on the battlefield along with a bunch of other pointless information from some random books but Soren hadn't been listening. His world had been crushed, still was crushed in fact.

After being told what he already had suspected, and deep down knew was true, Soren had run away into the night, despite Micaiah and Pelleas' pleads for him to stay. He wandered for days, eventually growing delirious, until Stefan found him and nursed him back to health. Soren remembered how they had talked about coming to terms with things, like his parentage and the injustice of being Branded and being rejected by society without anyone to love. And finally, Soren was able to realize that if he wanted to make his life worth something, then he would have to start taking charge and opening up to others. Stefan had given him this, and he would forever be in his debt. Even though there was only a brief period of time after he, Stefan, Micaiah, and Pelleas caught up to the rest of the army, he had grown closer (although to the normal person they weren't close at all) to the three of them, and by the time they reached Sienne, Ike and Soren's relationship had blossomed. It had been the best three weeks of Soren's life, and he had Stefan to thank for it. So that was why he would always support the green-haired man.

Soren turned back to the duel at hand, hoping that Stefan's odds had increased at least just a little. He was not lucky. The former Branded leader was even worse off than before, his arms visibly shaking, his sweat so thick on his clothes and body that Soren could smell it from where he stood fifty feet away, and his breathing so heavy that the crowd at the other end of the Great Hall could hear it. The only good thing was that Hesper had rapidly grown tired as well, and Soren realized that the winner would be determined by their next clash.

Stefan stood at the opposite end of the crowd, leaning on his sword which was jammed into the flaky stone of the cavern floor. Hesper was closest to Soren, bent over with his tongue hanging out of his mouth and his hands on his hips, barely keeping a hold of the dagger he held by two fingers. It was now or never. The deciding moment would come within the next few seconds.

Stefan lifted his sword and walked slowly towards Hesper, the greasy man following suit, and the two of them met in the middle. Stefan raised his sword haltingly and pointed it at Hesper the sleeve of his cloak shaking furiously due to the tremors shuddering down his arm. With a sudden movement, Stefan leapt forward, slashing his sword vertically, horizontally, and diagonally five different times. A couple of them hit, causing Hesper to stagger back, but the other three either missed the man or glanced off his armor. Two shallow cuts had found themselves on Hesper's chest, the scarlet liquid of his body staining his silver armor but it hardly seemed to faze him. He grinned wickedly, advancing slowly towards Stefan, suddenly infused with some malevolent pool of energy. At the last second, he burst forward, launching off the ground with his dagger extended in front of him. He hit Stefan first in the chest with a quick, shallow horizontal slash, then leapt to the side and cut him across his sword arm, and then did a back flip and stabbed the swordmaster in the back, all within in two seconds. Stefan crumpled.

His sword fell to the ground, bouncing along the ground a few times and then settling down with a final clank. Stefan fell to his knees and hung his head, looking down at the ground and ignoring Hesper when he came up and placed a dagger along his neck. The greasy man leaned in close to the man and swept aside Stefan's sweaty hair, speaking softly and menacingly into his ear.

"Well, well, well. It looks like I won. Fair and square. So should I kill you or not… You may be a problem later on, but I think I've humiliated you enough eh? And I can take care of little Soren and Elle, they are no match for me if they decide to attempt to take over. Hmmm, it's been decided. If you are gone, they won't have the motivation to rebel. Plus my boss wants Soren for himself. That's right. I infiltrated the colony and now I plan to use it for my own devious purposes. Now die with that knowledge. Ha! No one will ever know except for you."

Soren, seeing Stefan's crumpled form, ran forward but stopped when he saw Hesper's dagger slip around the man's neck. He was at a loss of what to do. Hesper held all the power, and if he made a move, it was wholly possible that the greasy, gray-clad man would slit Stefan's neck and then attempt to kill Soren. He was about to turn away and throw it all behind him, maybe leave the colony and try to find a new life somewhere else, maybe take Elle with him, when a high and moony voice rang out from behind him.

"Children! I have important things to tell. For long I have sat in my room, thinking over the images that I have seen, the feelings that I have glanced upon, the soul of the very man ready to slit the throat of your former leader!" the wise woman shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Hesper.

Hesper blanched, slowly snatching his knife away from Stefan's neck and backing up a few steps, seemingly trying to hide behind the very man he was trying to kill. The crowd had begun to murmur amongst themselves although it mostly disbelieving and they whispered amongst themselves out of respect, not assent. The whole colony deeply respected the wise woman and held her in high regard but that didn't mean they necessarily had faith in her ranting predictions. Soren himself normally wouldn't believe such nonsense if he didn't know such clairvoyance was how Micaiah had won back and then defended Daein, not to mention how said visions helped them defeat the Disciples of Order endless amount of times.

"That man…HE IS A DEMON!" the wise woman screamed, her eyes bugging out and spittle flying from his mouth.

Soren softly groaned. Hesper now had pretty much ensured victory over Stefan, and the whole colony. The damn hag had now made herself look like a fool in front of all these people and it would only take a few choice words from Hesper to permanently turn things around his way. Which was exactly what he did.

"Oh, come now my dear, sweet old lady! Do I look like a demon? I mean I'm not even a mage, it's not like I could be possessed by a spirit! Unless you're suggesting that I, the hope and future of this refuge, am so wicked and malevolent and dubious that I am the devil in human form?"

A couple people behind Soren snickered, but he refrained from turning around and yelling at them. Stefan was losing and it was time to jump ship, despite all his loyalties to Stefan and his debt. He wasn't necessarily going to ally himself with Hesper but…it might be a good idea just to slip out of the colony while he could. He needed to find Elle and ask her if she wanted to come along.

"Children! Please listen to me! This man, he is a bad, bad person. He is no refugee from society like the rest of us! He was sent here by a man with golden eyes who is the master of the waves, he is here to use us! This man will destroy us all! You know what? This man is not even from Tellius. He is from across the sea, journeying from the island of sands from the beach of trees. We mustn't trust him. He is a foreigner!" she pleaded.

The crowd burst out in murmurs, although this time they were truly concerned and suspicious. If there was one thing that Soren knew that the Branded didn't like it was outsiders and people unlike them. They viewed them as risky and shady, people who always had ulterior motives and couldn't be trusted. And the wise woman had played on their greatest fears, and he knew that they would turn against Hesper, which Hesper knew as well. He had backed up even further behind Stefan, but now Stefan had walked away and was leaning on Elle, her arm around his waist supporting him and keeping him standing. The people were now shouted, some of them saying that they could still trust Hesper, others saying that they should stay safe and stick with Stefan.

Hesper stepped forward, his whole entire face completely pale white except for two bright splotches of red burning in the center of each of his cheek, his greasy gray hair contrasting sharply with his pallor. His eyes had a spark of fury but were also laced with sadness and defeat, as if he was ashamed of his heritage and his place of birth.

"IT MATTERS NEITHER WHAT YOU THINK NOR SAY ABOUT ME! I have WON the competition, I have WON the duel. By means of the rules set up by Sir Soren over here, Stefan no longer has the option to rule over this colony. I will defend my hard-earned right to rule over this colony to the very end!" Hesper shouted, his eyes increasingly growing crazed and demonic, his face contorted into one similar to that of a goblin situated on the outside of a building.

Soren took a deep breath. It was now or never. He could either listen to the wise woman and fight Hesper, win, and take over the colony, or deny his destiny and run away from all of this and cower in fear. He didn't know if he had the strength to beat Hesper when he was fully rested, but the way he was now, deranged, tired, and altogether not on his game, if Soren got across one good shot, then maybe, maybe he would be able to win. And then he would rule over the Branded, and if he followed the wise woman's advice, lead them to claim his birthright. He stepped forward.

"Ahem. Hesper, I said that you and Stefan should fight. And that the winner would rule over the colony. But I would think that considering new revelations," Soren spoke simply, glancing over at the wise woman, who looked at him with her blind eyes and smiled, "that it is only fair that perhaps someone else should be allowed a try for the command of this colony?"

Hesper laughed throatily and slapped his knee; his eyes alit with some desperate, hopeless psychosis.

"Ha! And just who would that be?"

"Me. Ready yourself." Soren spoke icily, drawing out his tome.

Hesper sneered and took a few steps forward, just into the range of Soren's wind spells. He got ready. It was now, he had to utter the spell and unleash the element of air upon Hesper or else Hesper would get to him first and then all would be over, and Soren would either be defeated or dead. It would have to be a lucky shot, one that would immediately incapacitate the rogue and knock him out. Soren glanced down at his book; an Elwind tome, which should be perfect. He imagined blades of wind speeding toward Hesper, a pool of the green air spreading around his feet and sucking him down to his knees. He uttered the spell.

And the winds obeyed his very commands.

* * *

><p>Haar lay upon the ground, staring up at the expansive blue sky with her islands of cloud and hoping that some benevolent light would reach down and take him out of his misery. The fight with Selice had taken everything out of him, and then falling on the ground from goddess knew how high only made things worse. Even though Jill had given him a concoction right away and Ilyana had healed him, he was still exhausted, sore, and in pain. But Rebecka had come over, a worried look across her face and told him that they would be meeting with the mayor in the town hall, and that she expected him to be there within the hour. She had been very forceful and dictating, which was very much unlike her. So that meant that whatever was going on was of the utmost importance and that he better get his sorry butt over to the town hall. He had been lying there, next to the pond and on the soft, green grass for a long time, and he knew that there was no why he hadn't laid down for more than an hour. What Haar really wanted was for someone to come over, yell at him, and then take him over to this meeting. But he knew that it wouldn't happen. So he prepared to get up and fight the urge to take a well-earned nap.<p>

Using his muscular abdomen, Haar painfully pulled himself up to a sitting position with a long, semi-loud groan. His spine lit up in a million places with pain and he instinctively placed both of his hands on his lower back and began to rub. Apparently, no amount of stave use could take away internal pain. Sure, maybe they could magically stitch up cuts and get rid of bruises, could heal your body of poison and put you to sleep or infuse you with resistance to magic, but they couldn't take away any amount of pain. Haar internally slapped himself. He should be grateful that he was alive, and even more so, grateful that he wasn't paralyzed, but instead here he was groaning and complaining because he had some back problems. It was childish.

He tensed up his leg muscles and then pushed himself up off the ground, propelling himself upward with surprising velocity and strength. Haar grinned; maybe his injuries weren't so bad after all. Then a wave of nausea rolled over and he swooned, almost falling back onto the grass. Before he could lose his balance, or take a nice nap, he staggered over to the town hall across the square. The marketplace here in this Talregan town was littered with dead people. For bandits, they seemed to have had surprising skill and strong armor; he saw a few mages, a couple lancemen, and about a dozen cavaliers. Narrowing his eyes, Haar bent over and inspected the armor of a dead soldier (because they were for sure not bandits), looking for an insignia. He found none, and he noticed that their armor was a dark blue; a color that he knew was not used in any of the Beorc countries. Not to mention these warriors looked extremely exotic, with unnaturally tan skin and bland hued hair, something that was uncommon in Tellius. Most people on the continent were pale, and the good majority had vibrant, colorful hair. Granted, Haar himself did not, but he could only name a few others who did not have some shade of purple, blue, pink, green, or any other possible color of the rainbow.

Haar batted at the pine double doors of the town hall and sauntered in, looking for this meeting that he was supposed to attend. At the far end of the room sat a table with a bunch of maps laid upon it, along with a couple quill pens and a well of ink. Standing around the table was Zihark, Rebecka, Jill, and the mayor, while Mia and Ilyana sat in chairs a few feet away, chatting amongst themselves intensely, the occasional giggle issuing forth from their location. Rebecka looked behind her and saw him, and then rushed over to help him to the table. She still seemed worried, but had definitely calmed down a bit, her eyes no longer so intense or furious. She looked into his eye and spoke in a whisper to him, her voice caring and anxious.

"Haar. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. What happened? Why are we meeting here? What's going on?" Haar asked.

"Shhhh. Ilyana told me that your wounds are serious, at least internally. You really shouldn't be out and about, your body needs time to heal. No one got seriously hurt in the fight, you don't need to worry. But we need to talk. There is no way that those guys were just your average bandits, they were way too skilled. I think that this southern insurgency is legitimate, Haar I think that we should be worried. About our safety and about Nox. What if they know that I am the Baroness of Nox? They wouldn't attack the manor, would they?"

Haar shook his head. Her fears were well founded, that was for sure. The wyvern rider that he had fought, this Selice, was way too skilled to just be a ruffian looking for trouble, not to mention he had fancy armor and what could quite possibly be a wyvern of the Korl. And since it had seemed that he was leading the troops, it was probable that this random attack was much more than what it seemed like. But he felt like there was something important that he was forgetting, something that was integral.

He walked up to the table with Rebecka. Zihark seemed to be very grave, his serious face etched in stone, and he was for sure lost in thought. The mayor no longer seemed so obsessive about Haar, although he could detect that the man really wanted to burst with random information and rumors about different types of wyverns. And then there was Jill. She had her soldier's face on, a stern yet emotionless guise that gave nothing away. She seemed to not notice him at all. He looked down at the maps and saw that the nearest one was a close up of southeastern Daein, with various towns and random areas circled or triangled. The only barons visible were Nox and Talrega, although neither one was circled.

"What is this?" Haar asked.

"A map of southeastern Daein. The triangles are rumors of bandit attacks or locales, and the circles are verified attacks. We think that they are coordinated. See how each attack will focus first on a small town, and then they will proceed onto a larger town? We think that these 'brigands' make their presence known by completely destroying a little village, then take advantage of the fear running rampant in the larger towns to take them down. That is what would have happened here if you guys hadn't shown up." Jill said, her voice giving away nothing of what she felt. The girl had changed so much. She used to be an open book to Haar, he had always been able to read what she thinking, but now she was as closed up and walled off as Shiharam, her father.

"Oh. Outside, the soldiers seemed foreign, and their employer or lord or whomever they serve definitely has money." Haar said.

"Yes. We think that they are trying to debilitate southern Daein so they don't have to fear reciprocation from the back when they advance upon the north. But they haven't been hurting the citizenry, only the people whom fight back. These people only destroy armories, smithies, forges, places dedicated to war. I think that it's really a rebellion from the peasantry, only there is some noble providing the men to fight for them." Rebecka said with an icy tone, her voice laced with anger and disgust. Haar was impressed; these people had shown intellect and more insight than he had thought capable from two common soldiers and a noblewoman. Although he guessed that his companions had gone through a lot more than most.

"What are we going to do? It's obvious that these soldiers are extremely strong, and we were only barely able to defeat them. Plus I am sure that this is not their full strength." Jill said.

"We need to hole up." Zihark advised.

"What! Why? We can't just hide like we did with Pelleas and hope that some great miracle will come along! Micaiah can't help us now. She has a country to run."

"Yes. But we have to gather our strength. If we are all spread out, then this insurgency will crush us. I know that you have a sizable amount of wyvern knights in Talrega, one that definitely breaks Micaiah's decree of limited army size." Zihark responded.

"So? Your point?" Jill said testily.

"We go to Talrega, you muster up your army, and we wait for the enemy to come to us. We have already lost most of the towns and villages, you can see that, and Nox is probably the last unaffected stronghold in this area. We need to amass ourselves and then break down the rebellion as a whole. You have the strength Jill, but we can't utilize it properly if all your men are spread out across Daein!"

"Fine then. You're right. But then what are we going to do about Nox? Are we just going to abandon it?"

Everyone looked to Rebecka, even Mia and Ilyana stopped their gossip long enough to see what the woman would say. The important thing that Haar forgot was slowly coming back to him. He remembered that it was about Nox, and that it had something to do with Selice, but he couldn't recall what it was for the life of him. Beside him Rebecka took a deep breath and spoke sadly but firmly.

"Leave it. Nox died a long time ago, way before it was attacked by the Laguz Alliance six months ago. It died along with my father in the Mad King's War, and ever since then I have just been going through the motions of ruling. He made the baron such an amazing place, he finally placed us on the map, and now…now it is nothing. Just another wrecked castle in a land marred by the scars of war. Don't worry, I can deal with the loss."

Mia gasped behind him, and Jill shook her head, finally showing some emotion through her sympathy for the noblewoman. Haar looked over at Rebecka. She had no tears falling from her eyes, but he could still tell that she was extremely saddened by what she had to do, even if she said that the place was no longer important to her. He put an arm around her and squeezed tight, and in response she laid her head on his shoulder, no matter how uncomfortable it was with all the armor. Jill tensed up when they did this exchange, although none saw except for Zihark who simply raised a thin, purple eyebrow.

"Okay. Now that it's settled, we need to start making battle plans and strategies. I suggest that we take refuge in the only fort in Talrega. It backs up to a mountain, one of our rivers rushes right by in the plains in front of the fort, and it blocks the only entrance to Talrega and the castle for miles around. If the insurgents want to take out Talrega out, then they will have to get through there first." Jill said.

"Wait! We first need to know what that wyvern rider said to you Haar." Zihark said.

"What? What are you talking about?" Rebecka asked.

"Yeah. What ARE you talking about?" Jill agreed, although she looked loath to admit it.

"When we were fighting, I looked up into the sky and saw that Haar and this guy were extremely close. I figured that they were talking, because I didn't see any fighting. And then Haar fell." Zihark said.

Haar sighed. He could remember some of what Selice told him, but not all of it. But he would try his best anyways.

"His name was Selice. His wyvern's name was Blaze and he was massive, even bigger than Celica." Haar began.

"That's because it was a Korl wyvern! Those things are massive! I would know. You know, one time, about twenty, no maybe it was fifteen years ago, this one man…" the mayor started to say.

"Please. Mayor. SHUT UP!" Zihark burst out.

"Yeah! Go Zihark!" Mia shouted, standing up and waving her arms in the air. Ilyana just smiled, as if amused by her friends' antics,

"Ugh, I know right?" Jill complained, "He's just been breaking through conversations to talk about wyverns all day! It's getting annoying!"

"Fine then. Maybe I should just leave!" the mayor spit out, although he didn't get the reaction that he wanted. Everybody pretty much said okay, get out now, we don't care, so the mayor just sunk back in his chair. Meanwhile, Haar had just remembered what Selice had told him.

"Anyways…", Haar said, "He told me that…Nox will burn for our interference with his plans."

The room went silent, everybody contemplating the sheer enormity of such a threat. Haar didn't know what to do; he had to save Nox, if only for Rebecka because despite all of her denials, he knew that she really didn't want to let the Nox estate go. The place held so many tender memories for her, and he really, really didn't want her to lose that. Her memories of her father were what kept her going, as Haar knew that they had been very close, and he didn't want her to give up hope because the one place where she held good memories of him was destroyed. He stood up abruptly and whistled for Celica. Even when he was inside a building, he knew that the wyvern would be able to hear him, as they had the best hearing out of all domesticated animals on the continent.

"I have to go. We can't let Nox fall. It is integral to this country! Nox supplies the garrison for the defense of Tor Garen if the crown sends nobody. What if somebody invades? Daein would fall so fast…" Haar said.

"No! That is stupid Haar! If what you said was true, then Selice will have men already at Nox! You could get killed! I don't know what I would do…" Jill shouted, but Haar had already left. While she had been yelling at him, he had looked over at Rebecka and she had been smiling sweetly at him, nodding her head for him to go. He had begun to turn but before he was able, she had mouthed a silent thank you at him. It infused him with the power to go through with going to Nox and possibly not making it back.

Haar walked quickly out of the town hall towards Celica who had just settled down onto the grass. She was grinning, anticipating a flight, with her snout sticking out into the wind and her back arched with her wings outstretched, ready to push off the ground at any moment. She wanted to fly, and Haar would give her that. He bounded up on to her and settled into the saddle, fitting his legs into the stirrups. She purred in excitement and jumped off the ground, pumping her powerful wings and taking them up into the baby blue sky. Haar leaned in close to her ear and whispered one simple set of directions:

"Let's go home."

* * *

><p><strong>There's not really much to say here, other than that Ike made his triumphant return. And, once again, my source for the verbalization of the ancient language did not show up in the last author's note! This thing keeps deleting it out. So, even though the ancient language was not present in this chapter, my source for it was the<strong> serenesforest **website. It really is a great website and if you are thinking of writing any sort of Fire Emblem fanfiction I would highly suggest that you go there. It helps.**** I realize that this was a short chapter but I figured that a little break in the never-ending sea of text would be nice. So I hope you enjoyed it, tell all your friends about it, and the next chapter will hopefully be out no later than two Sundays from now. This promise you can hold me to.**


End file.
